#y: 1940

[bwallure]

REBECCA (1940) dir. Alfred Hitchcock

[xmiaacxio]

husband.

@buckyblogs

[elixirfromthestars]

Boulevard Confessions

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x Nurse!Reader 

Summary: Being a third wheel to Peggy and Steve wasn't your ideal Thursday night fun. However, when they tell you Bucky is tagging along you eagerly decide to join them. That is until a third party makes its presence known.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warning(s): drinking / fluff / jealousy / divergent from canon timeline / suggestive language / tipsy symptoms / mentions of war + the hardships that came with it

a/n:  Here’s a little piece that’s been sitting unfinished in my drafts for ages. For context, this timeline is one where Steve and Bucky both made it back from the war safe and sound and are enjoying their lives now that the war is over. Thank you for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ As a little psa my writing challenge is still ongoing!! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!! ♡

for ambiance 🎶

“ I am about to spew my dinner all over this table,” you grimace, downing the rest of your martini. The bitterness of the spirits was lost on you as your consumption grew in time with your sour mood.

Peggy eyed you from across the table, holding back her amusement, “ If you keep stuffing your face with martinis you will.” You reach out to grab another unclaimed drink, but before you could, Peggy slid the rest of them away from you. You crossed your arms, blowing out a resigned sigh. Even in your inhibited state, you knew better than to argue with an SSR agent. 

Peggy shook her head at you, “ As your best friend I have an obligation to put a stop to this. Don’t you have a shift tomorrow at the clinic?” Your eyes went wide at the reminder. 

You slump in the booth, dreading the bad hangover awaiting you in the morning. “ I do, but thankfully it's in the afternoon. I won’t feel it by then. . .” You trailed off, failing to convince Peggy, or yourself, you wouldn’t be miserable at work tomorrow. Peggy turned to look at the dance floor before returning her attention to you, “ You know, maybe you should dance the dizzy away. It might help you sober up.” Your lips purse at her suggestion, noticing a certain blonde-haired blue-eyed super soldier returning from the bathroom.

 “ It's easy for you to say. You have a dance partner,” you motioned over to Steve. 

“ You would too if you would only go up and ask him,” she pointed out. 

You glanced at the dancing couples, “ No way. With the way that leech is clinging on to him—I’d never get one word in.”

She shrugged, “ You’ll never know until you try.” These were her parting words before Steve arrived at the table and escorted her onto the dance floor. You watched them, your head bopping along tiredly to the swing music. 

Maybe you should have stayed home. 

You almost didn’t come to the outing—being the third wheel to Peggy and Steve wasn’t exactly your ideal Thursday night fun. However, Peggy had mentioned Bucky would come along, and seeing as you hadn’t seen him in a few weeks due to conflicting schedules, you thought this would be the perfect opportunity to catch up. 

That was until the leech—a woman named Darla—decided to hog Bucky all night. Darla had been trying to get with Bucky for over a month now. You found this out tonight when Steve made a comment about it. Bucky hadn’t paid it much importance, so you thought it must have not been anything serious. However, right about the time you and Bucky were starting to catch up, Darla came over and dragged him away. 

Since then you’ve been inhaling martinis like your lungs preferred them over air. 

You couldn’t help the way your eyes drifted over to Bucky’s figure. Handsome as ever in his navy suit—your favorite color on him—and hair neatly combed. Watching as Darla threw herself at him with the courage that you lacked. Pulling him every which way on the dance floor, holding his hands to her hips in a tight grip. 

Your stomach contents were threatening to come up again. 

When did things get so complicated? You scratched at your brain for an answer. Spending time with Bucky had been so easy back at the military base where you met. You were stationed there in the medical unit caring for wounded and ill soldiers. During that time, you became great friends with Peggy and everyone on the Howling Commandos team. Bucky would frequently visit the medical unit even when he wasn’t sick or wounded. Sometimes you swore he would fake injuries or aches just to come and see you. Anytime he came in with something new he would refuse to see any other nurse but you.

It made you feel special. While other women were smitten with his charms and stumbled over seizing his attention—you had it without effort. You had so much more than just his attention without even trying. On hopeless nights he shared his fears, on days where the war seemed endless you eased his worries, and when he felt like the world was crashing down on him his heart spilled all vulnerabilities to you. 

You found refuge from the horrors of war in each other—a balm to each other’s wounds that went beyond the physical. In no time, something deeper for him bloomed within your heart. 

Ever since the war was over, however, things have been different. It’s been a couple of years and Steve and Bucky work alongside Peggy for the Strategic Scientific Reserve. Going on missions has become their norm, so seeing your friends is a rarity nowadays. 

You on the other hand were given a job at a children’s clinic in Brooklyn. You were grateful for this small piece of normality coming back to you. Treating smaller wounds on smaller bodies instead of lethal wounds during a relentless battle. Your senses are permanently burned with sights, sounds, and smells horrific enough to induce nightmares—and they do—managing to steal precious hours of sleep from you almost every night.

It was something you and Bucky especially bonded over.

“ May I have the honor of a dance, gorgeous?” A voice interrupted your thoughts. You looked up to meet a pair of unrecognizable hazel eyes. A handsome stranger stood in front of you, his hand outstretched for you to take. If you had but only one percentage less of alcohol in your system you would have declined his offer. This of course wasn’t the case, and not wanting to reminisce on more melancholy thoughts, you decided to listen to Peggy’s advice and dance the dizzy away.

Even if it wasn’t with the man you wanted to dance with.

“ You may,” you smiled at him, taking hold of his hand. Swiftly you were swept into the sea of couples on the dance floor. The handsome stranger—who you soon learn was named Thomas—was an impeccable dancer. With one hand holding yours, and the other holding you gently at your lower back, he spun you around the dance floor in rhythmic kicks and slides. Thomas’ energy was infectious and you couldn’t help but match his enthusiasm. 

After two dances your footwork and Thomas’ were practically synchronized. Thomas twirled you, causing a giggle to escape your lips. It seemed the alcohol was stubborn about staying in your system as the twirl caused the dizziness to come back—for a split second—making you trip over your own foot. Thomas caught you and steadied you, both of you laughing at your clumsiness. The carefreeness of it all lulled the ache in your heart.

Behind Thomas, you caught a glimpse of Peggy who was dancing as joyfully with Steve. Her eyes met yours and she sent you an encouraging smile. Soon after, her eyes drifted to something behind you, turning her smile into a smirk. You went back to dancing with Thomas, but manoeuvered around to get a look at what caused Peggy to smirk. Your heart did a little jump when you discovered she had been looking at Bucky and Darla, dancing a few feet from where you were. 

Correction. She had been staring at a Bucky you barely recognized. His jaw clenched and body rigid as he glared daggers at the back of Thomas’ head. Darla beside him looked snubbed, tugging on Bucky’s arm to get his attention. His tense demeanor didn’t move an inch no matter how much she protested. The pair were no longer dancing, merely standing in the sea of all the couples. This piqued your curiosity. 

Why had he stopped dancing? And to glare at Thomas of all things?

You didn’t have much time to think about it as Darla, clearly fed up by Bucky’s lack of attention, grabbed him by his arm and pulled him away from the dance floor. You swayed to and fro with Thomas, controlling the direction you were swinging in to try and not lose Bucky from your line of sight. 

Where was Darla taking him?

Your heart stopped when you realized where they were going. Darla was making a beeline for the back of the bar where the honey hallway was. The spot where all the couples went to have a little more privacy and fool around without having to leave the bar. If he was going there with Darla, then maybe things were more serious between them than you previously believed.

Your heart dropped to your stomach when reality sank in. 

You excused yourself from Thomas, scurrying away in need of some fresh air. He offered to follow along, but you declined wanting to be alone. You threw the entrance door open into the Brooklyn night as a sickly feeling spread throughout your body. 

You stepped into the street, the swing music fading into the background as the door closed behind you. You took in a deep breath, once again regretting the amount of alcohol you had consumed.

If you weren’t drunk seeing Bucky with someone else wouldn’t have hurt so much. It wouldn’t have knocked the air out of your lungs like it's doing now.

You know that’s a lie. That’s a damn lie you’re telling yourself to get you through the night. To give you the strength to focus on your surroundings and trudge home. 

You’d eventually do that. First, however, your body seemed to want to cling to a street lamp to bring the world back to you. The cold metal underneath your palms grounding you for a moment. The breeze blowing past you threading through your hair as if to comfort you.

“ Doll, everything alright?” Your heart stuttered when you heard his voice, the thud of the bar door closing following it. You shut your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from saying or doing anything the liquid courage in your system was trying to wrestle out of you. 

You knew you needed to make a quick getaway. 

“ I’m fine. Just heading home,” you were straight to the point before turning to walk away. Not looking at him as you put one foot in front of the other—and then stumbled. 

Bucky caught you, his arms offering a strong support,“ Woah, Y/n, how much did you drink?” There was a slight annoyance in his tone. As if the mere thought of you having fun was preposterous. 

Or at least that’s how your tipsy state interpreted it.

“ Doesn’t matter. I can have a drink or two if I want to. I get to have fun too,” you retort, trying to push his arms away from your body. Your arms are no match for his, as he doesn’t budge an inch—on the contrary, his hold gets more firm. The world started to spin more, but at this point, whether it was because of the martinis or his proximity—you wouldn’t know. 

Bucky huffed and rolled his eyes,“ This isn’t having fun. This is going overboard,” he counters. His constant need to hold you steady and scold you for drinking irked the part of you that was already upset with him—fueling it more. Especially when you had the image of him heading to the honey hallway with Darla ingrained in your brain. And his arms, the ones around you now, swinging her around on the dancefloor. 

There was something dark bubbling an envious brew within you. 

“ Why do you give a damn?” you snap out harshly. He stills at your tone and it's enough to shake his hold off of you. You force yourself to look at him. Intending to shoot him an annoyed glare. Something to convey what your heart felt when your words failed to—but when your eyes met his you froze. 

They were dark—virtually stormy—and yet, there was a hint of pain in them. Almost as if you had kicked him, but he was toughing it out.

“ What was that about?” He finally spoke after what seemed like too long. 

“ What was what about?” You feigned innocence. 

His eyes got darker, a disapproving half smile on his face,“ Don’t play coy. I come out here to check on you. You’re stumbling like a drunk fool. I try to help and you snap at me?” 

“ I didn’t ask you to,” you’re quick with your dismissal.

“ You…unbelievable…” Bucky lets out a scoff, not knowing how to respond. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into you. In his mind, you’re simply too drunk to regulate yourself. He doesn’t know the vile jealousy that bubbles in the pit of your stomach and gnaws at your heart. He doesn’t know the intense battle your emotions are having with your brain—right in front of him—to stay silent before you truly say something you cannot take back. 

“ Go back inside. I’m heading home,” you say simply, not wanting to dwell on this conversation any longer. You feared what might come of it if you didn’t.

“ No. I'm walking you home,” he shakes his head firmly, his tone matching in conviction. 

“ No, you're not,” you reply, turning to make your way down the boulevard. Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose, “ Like hell I'm not, doll. I'm not letting you walk home alone.” 

“I'm not letting you walk me home. I don't want you to,” you say adamantly as your feet start moving. Bucky is right beside you as they do, not letting you get away,“ I don't care what you want or don't want. I'm walking you home and that's final.” His voice leaves no room for argument. 

The martinis in your system don’t particularly give a damn, but it is enough to quiet you for the time being. Your speed increases slightly, but Bucky can match it easily. For a moment you consider running—as ridiculous as an idea that may be. 

The sharp patter of your footsteps against the pavement synchronizes with the thudding of his as they mingle down the boulevard. The city sounds around you are an otherwise low hum of the occasional car and distant conversation. The city still whispering its signs of life at this time of night.

The walk to your place isn’t too far. And you know if you don’t shake him off soon there would be an unpleasant conversation awaiting you when you arrive.  

“ Don’t you have someone waiting on you at the bar?” You remind him with a little sting to your heart. Secretly hoping this wasn’t the reason he’d walk away from you.

Bucky frowns, thinking for a moment before speaking,“ What? You mean Darla?” The sound of her name on his lips bristles you. 

“ Yeah, her,” the word her spills from your lips as if it was venomous. Bucky catches that and is taken aback for a second. His footsteps coming to a stop. You push yourself to keep walking. Taking this as a sign to ignore the tiny part of your brain that begs you to stop moving.

Not a minute later Bucky strides to your side,“ Doll…are you jealous?” He asks with the tiniest bit of doubt, his small smile overshadowing it. 

“ Me? Ha! No,” your denial is quick—too quick. His small smile turns into a wide grin. You’ve just confirmed his conjecture,“ Yes, you are.” 

“ No. Go ahead and marry her for all I care. I won’t be at the wedding anyway,” you don’t mean what you say and yet you said it anyway. Playing up the indifference act you’ve dawned. 

“ You won’t be at my wedding?” He’s not upset when he responds, he's amused. He has to hold back his laughter at your train of thought. This gets under your skin and you grumble a snippy no before picking up your pace. You’re now imagining Darla in a wedding dress next to Bucky in his suit and it does devastating things to you. 

“ That’s impossible.”

“ How so? I just won’t go.”

His tone takes a more serious turn when he replies, “ It’ll be hard to have a wedding without the bride there.” You come to a halt, your head whipping so fast to look at him you almost gave yourself whiplash.

“ What?” You manage to find your voice. His gaze softens,“ You heard me, doll.” He’s being completely sincere—you know this deep down. However, there’s still a part of you that doesn’t believe this is happening. That believes this to be a dream.

“ You don’t mean that.”

“ I do. If you were to ask me where I see forever—I see it with you.”

His confession takes your breath away. The mere admission of him thinking of you as his eternity—as the one he wants beside him for life—your heart could burst at how delightfully overwhelmed it feels. 

“ But you—” you start and his pointer finger gently presses against your lips to shush you. He already knows what you’re about to bring up and he needs to nip it before your drunken mind jumps to wilder conclusions.

“ She’s just a friend. She’s a secretary at the SSR—nothing more. I was dancing with her to be nice. Honestly, I was trying to find a polite way to leave her and get back to you until I saw you dancing with that guy,” he removes his finger from your lips once he’s done explaining. At the mention of Thomas, his jaw clenches briefly and annoyance flashes in his eyes. 

It dawns on you why he was glaring at Thomas earlier. The realization of Bucky having felt as jealous as you did sends your heart ablaze. Your heart had gone through so much tonight, you were surprised it hadn’t gone into cardiac arrest already. 

“ Who’s the jealous one now?” you tease, an almost giddy smile on your face. 

Bucky rolls his eyes playfully,“ Yeah, doll. Unlike you, I’ll admit it. I was jealous. I don’t like seeing you with another man. Laughing and dancing—should've been me, not him,” he says stepping closer to you. His eyes reflected pure adoration.

“ Why didn’t you ask me?” your question comes out quieter than you’d like. Enamored with the way he’s looking at you. You can barely focus on anything else. 

“ Because when it comes to you I get all nervous and worked up. It's like I’m a punk again—a dumb kid with a crush. I don’t want to mess it up with you, Y/n. I would never want to do anything to lose you. Guess I got too caught up in doing things right I didn’t do anything at all,” Bucky opens up to you, his answer shedding away any last bit of hesitance in your body.

“ Bucky…I wish it would’ve been you instead too,” you say softly, stepping closer until you’re only a few inches away from him. His features match yours in fondness as he gently reaches out to grab hold of your waist, pulling you even closer, and closing the final bit of distance between you.

Your hands rest delicately at his chest. You can feel the way his heart races under your fingertips, drawing out a small gasp from you. Knowing you had this effect on him delighted you. It made you wonder how long you had been making him feel this way—and how long you had missed the signs.

“ Told you. I’m a dumb kid with a crush,” he reiterates with a soft chuckle. You giggle at his words, beaming dreamily at the way that all of this is real. That Bucky has feelings for you, and you two can only grow closer from here on out.

For a split second his eyes dart to your mouth. Having you so close like this tempts Bucky to no end. Everything he’s ever wanted to do with you crosses his mind and it drives him crazy. He has no idea where to start or if he’ll even let himself start anywhere. 

Your body thrums with anticipation as it waits for him to make a move.  

Bucky ends up tenderly kissing your forehead, “ Come on, doll. Let’s get you home.” Your lips form a light pout, disappointed his lips didn’t touch yours. He sees your reaction and he laughs, giving your hips a light squeeze, “ Doll, our first kiss will happen after you get that alcohol out of your system,” he says, one hand reaching up to lightly swipe at your nose—finding you endearing. 

“ We’ve already had our first kiss.” 

“ Doll we—oh, we have…” 

The memory of you two drunkenly kissing in the medical tent on one particularly lonely night during the war flashes through your minds. The already tension between you rising to a palpable form. 

There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes,“ Still. If I’m being honest, I’m not stopping at just one kiss. So let’s wait until you’re sober, alright?”

“ Not stopping?” Your tone is playful as you pry for further explanation. 

“ Oh no, doll. I'll be doing so much more than kissing you,” he smirks, his words laced with suggestion. His hand goes out to cup your face, caressing your cheek. It warms under his fingertips at his implication. The air around you buzzes with electricity. 

He can tell where your mind went and he’s enjoying every second of it,“ Yeah, doll. Like taking you out on a proper date,” he winks at you. A genuine laugh erupts from you at the way he side steps what he really meant. He joins you in the laughter, his eyes telling you the truth of what he really desires.

You. Every bit of you.

You interlace your fingers with his, knowing deep down he has a point. When you kiss Bucky you want to be all there. You want all your senses to be fully awake to drink in every bit of him. 

Especially if it goes farther than a kiss.

Bucky moves you over so he’s walking on the outermost part of the sidewalk, holding your interlaced hands to his waist so you’re pressed right up against his side as you walk. You tease and playfully banter all the way to your apartment. The unspoken promises and unmistakable yearning for one another dancing around you two. Assuring you there was so much more to come. 

[wildflowersandvibranium]

Where Pages Turn

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x GenderNeutral!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky sink into a gentle rhythm of an evening filled with warmth, words, and whispers, wrapped in the safety of each other.

Word Count: 1.2k ish

Warnings/Tags: Nothing but Fluff babyyy. Kissing , anddd i think thats its lolll , just a comforting sleepy fic <3

If I missed anything let me know!!

Authors Note: wrote this cutey drabble/oneshot little thing out of pure indulgence HAHA anyways read my first series I started hehe see ya on the next one bbys! 🌷💖

MY MASTERLIST ~ REQUESTS ALWAYS OPEN!!

Bucky pushed open the heavy wooden door , his shoulders strained with the hard day’s work. 

His dark hair clung to his forehead slightly curling at the ends , sweat streaking down his temples , smudges of dirt on his jaw and collarbone. 

But you didn’t care. 

The moment he stepped inside , you were already up , your arms around his waist , your lips pressing into his , the taste of salt and fresh air on his skin and lips.

He smiled against your mouth , his eyes crinkling at the corners as he pulled back.

 “Hiya , doll,” he murmured , low and husky.

“Hey , Buck,” you whispered back , your hands slipping around his neck , feeling the dampness of his shirt under your fingers.

He let out a little laugh , pulling back enough to take you in , his eyes tracing over your sweet face. 

“Sorry I'm so disgusting,” he said,  but you shook your head.

“You’re perfect ,” you replied.

He gave you a quick kiss , a promise of more , then pulled back. 

“Let me wash up. Don’t want to get you all dusty and gross.”

You watched him turn and head to the washroom , his shoulders broad and strong as he disappeared down the hall. 

You exhaled , your cheeks warm from the kiss he had planted and the long day of waiting for him. 

Grabbing your notebook and pen , you settled onto the couch , pulling your favorite blanket around your shoulders. 

Alpine , your precious fluffy white cat , was already curled up against the wall ,  purring as the cool night air drifted in through the cracked window.

The dwindling fire in the fireplace was down to only glowing coals , so you waited , your pen tapping the page as you picked up where you left off in your newest novel.

 The words came slow at first , your mind half on the story and half on Bucky in the shower. Safe and at home.

But soon you were lost in it , the world you were building ; creating , unfolding in your mind , the characters’ voices and lives filling the quiet room, the writing almost writing itself with how quickly it was unfolding as you hastily wrote.

When Bucky reappeared , he was a different man. 

Freshly showered , wearing a soft gray shirt and flannel pajama pants , his hair still damp and pushed back , feet barefoot. 

He moved to the fireplace first , squatting down to poke at the logs with the poker before , adding a few pieces of kindling until the fire flared back to life. 

The orange , yellow glow danced over his face , his expression focused and calm as he tended to the flames.

You watched him , your pen stilling looking up from your notebook. 

“How was the roof?” you asked , your voice soft in the crackling silence.

He turned his head , a slow smile spreading across his face. 

“It was a mess,” he said standing , stretching his muscles. 

“The shingles were falling apart , and there was a hole in the corner where the raccoons got in. Took most of the day to patch it up , but it’s solid and all right now.”

“Raccoons?” you laughed, grabbing hands for him , discarding the writing on your lap..

“Yeah , little menaces ,” he said , chuckling.

“I think they were living up there for ‘bout a year by the damage they were able to do.”

You shook your head ,  grinning. “Well,  at least Steve’s parents will have a safe roof now they know to call the best guy to do it.” you whispered winking.

“Yeah,” he said , leaning back on his heels , satisfied with the fire. 

He brushed his hands together getting off any dust or soot.. 

“Oh—almost forgot,” you said suddenly , pointing towards the front door. “I went to the post office earlier today while you were gone at Stevies , and you got a package.”

His eyes lit up. “Seriously it came?” 

He moved to the door in 3 long strides , finding the box you’d left propped up against the wall. “Is it…?”

“Your nerdy book? Yes ,” you teased.

He shot you a mock glare. 

“Not just any nerdy book doll,” he said , holding it up like it was something sacred.

 “It’s the UK exclusive edition of The Hobbit. I’ve been waiting and saving for months.”

You laughed as he tore into it , the wrapping crumpling in his hands being thrown to the side. 

“God, you’re such a dork.”

He didn’t even look up , already pulling the book free.

 It was bound in green leather , the gold lettering glinting in the firelight. 

His grin was boyish , all teeth and crinkled eyes. “

It’s perfect,” he said, running his hand over the cover and text on the front like it was something alive.

You snuggled deeper into the couch , opening your notebook again. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy, Mr. Baggins.”

He shot you a look , his eyes warm. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he said , then dropped into the seat next to you. 

He cracked open the book , the pages rustling as he settled into it. 

You could feel the excitement radiating off him , like he was a kid again , discovering something magical.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence , the only sounds filling the home being  the turning of pages , the scratching of your pen ,  Alpine’s soft purr , and the crackle of the fire. 

Outside , the wind rustled the branches of the old oak in the yard , but inside , everything was warm and still.

Time passed in a haze. 

Your pen flew across the page , your story spilling out in words and sentences merging together , each sentence building on the last. 

Every so often , you’d glance up and catch Bucky’s expression , his eyes bright as he devoured the words of Tolkien’s world. 

Eventually after many yawns and fighting your heavy eyes , your hand slowed , the letters on the page blurring as sleep tugged at the edges of your mind. 

Your head drooped , the pen slipping from your fingers. 

The last thing you heard was the gentle sound of Bucky’s voice , low and amused.

“See , Alpine?” he said softly , glancing over at the cat sprawled in the window. “They work too hard.”

You felt his hand on your cheek , the warmth of his palm , as he brushed a lock of hair away from your face. 

Then his arms were around you with ease , ike you weighed nothing at all. 

You sighed, half-awake , your head lolling , resting on his chest.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured, his lips pressing to your temple.

He carried you down the hall , careful not to wake you and quiet as a mouse ,  he began tucking you under the covers and kissing your forehead before slipping in beside you.

His fingers found your arm and gave comforting soothing strokes up and down rhythmically.

 You drifted off with the scent of him in your hair , and the faint sound of Alpine’s purr echoing in your dreams.

With a kiss to your shoulder and another to your temple , sleep claimed bucky as well pulling the two of you into a perfect sleep , no fear , no worry , just love and your dreams  just like the stories you wrote and the ones 

he read.

-end

thank you so much for reading!

Comments , Reblogs , Likes and Requests are always loved!

(although if you liked this fic please consider reblogging so it can reach a wider audience)

They let me know that you are enjoying what I'm publishing and gives me motivation to write more and more! :33

[pome-seed]

დ1940s Loverდ

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky x 1940s!Reader

Summary: She never thought a trip to the laundromat would end in her meeting the love of her life. She never thought a trip to the laundromat would change her life forever.

A love with Bucky through the years, starting in the 30s, flowing through a raging war and a looming goodbye.

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: Fluff. Smut. Sexual Content. Angst. Sweet 1940s Bucky. Mention of war. Mention of blood and wounds and guns. 18+ MDNI

Authors Note: Hi guys! I've had this one in my closet for a while. I really love this one and hope you guys do to. There's a part 2 if you guys end up wanting it. Just let me know. But I hope you guys love this one, because I really really do! (also yes I mention a song from the 60s in this but pretend it was made 30 years before shhhhh) Comment and be kind!

She didn’t love doing laundry, but she loved the smell of fresh clothes. She also loved inventive machinery. She was young and curious, still living with her parents. They were a small family that generated a large mess. Her mother was a teacher, her father a soldier. There wasn’t much time for them all to gather at home together. So household duties usually fell on her.

So she found herself in a brand new self operating laundromat. 

The first time she visited the place, it was bustling with life. People from all around her neighborhood were marveling at the new inventive idea. She was thankful for it, too. Back home they didn’t have the money for a washing machine, and usually washed everything by hand. 

She spent two days a week in the quiet little building, washing her family's clothes and linens. She’d begun to enjoy the peace to herself.

For the first time in a while, she was the only person in the laundromat. She sat against a small bench in the center of the room, a book folded in her lap as she listened to the machines clink. 

The front door jingled, signalling another patron. She didn’t feel the need to look, content with keeping to herself. But then she heard the sound of two duffle bags hit the floor, and a very concerned sigh. She looked up to see a rather handsome looking young man staring at the machines in confusion. 

She bit back a smile as she watched him shuffle up to the orange machine, digging through his pockets for change. He glanced at the coins, then at the washer. 

“Need a hand?” She felt compelled to help him. She wasn’t one for talking to strangers, but he just looked so stupidly helpless. 

He looked surprised, embarrassment making him smile shyly. “That obvious?”

She closed her book and set it aside. “Just a bit.”

“I’ve just-” he chuckled, shrugging. “Never used one of these before.”

“Not many people have, they’re quite the feat.” She smiled, approaching him. “But they’re not that bad, trust me.” She glanced back at his two large bags. “You might be here a while, though.”

“I wish I would have brought a book. Do they have a radio?” He tilted his head at her, bright blue eyes curious.

She shook her head, “not yet.” 

He sighed, clicking his tongue. “Well I better get started then. Take mercy on me?” He blinked at her through dark lashes and a soft smile. 

She lifted a brow at him. “You might need a notebook for future use, mr…”

“Barnes, James Barnes,” he held his hand out, a charming smile spreading across his lips. “But people call me Bucky.”

She took his hand, returning his quick shake. “Bucky? Is that a nickname?” 

He nodded. “‘M middle name is Buchannon. My buddy gave me the name Bucky when we were kids.” He stuck his hand back in his pocket. “And what might your name be, doll?”

Her stomach fluttered at the name. “Y/n,” she introduced herself. “No nickname.” 

“Y/n,” the name rolled off his tongue like a purr. She suddenly felt nervous, speaking to such a handsome man. “Pretty name. So, Y/n, help me out here?”

She nodded, laughing at the kicked puppy look he had on his face. “Alright, alright.”

So she spent the next fifteen minutes walking him through the mechanics of the machines. She went a bit off topic as she rambled about the fantastical changes between old models and new. She had a knack for mechanics. 

She caught herself rambling once she realized he had his chin in his hand, his eyes fixed on her, as they sat together. “Oh- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to talk so much.” She chuckled.

He shook his head, smiling fondly. “No, no, I’m enjoying it. The technicalities behind such mundane things never really cross my mind. It’s nice to hear about how it all works. How do you know all this stuff?”

“Ah- my father, he’s a pilot. He used to build these little models when I was just a girl. He sometimes let me help him because I had smaller hands.” She wiggled her fingers at him.

He chuckled, looking at her hands. “So do you still build things? Machines like these?”

She stared at him like he had two heads. “Of course not,” she could almost laugh. “I’m a woman, can’t you tell?”

Bucky shook his head, a small smile on his lips. “Ah, so what? I’ve never understood all that.” He waved a hand. “Smaller hands are great for precise work. And I don't mean knitting.”

“Good thing I can’t knit.”

“Perfect. But can you build machines still? Have you tried since you were just a girl?” He tilted his head at her. 

She felt a bit flustered under the weight of the conversation. She’d just met him, she shouldn’t be speaking of such political matters with him. But she felt a flame flicker in her stomach under his insistence. “I haven’t tried in a long time. You don’t usually just have spare parts lying around.”

“Go to a junkyard, I knew boys back in school who scavenged for days for a bike.”

She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh yes, I’ll just go dig through trash for a few hours. The perfect plan.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been told I’m a great strategist.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah? From who?”

“My best pal, the one digging through the trash for a bike.” He grinned, his shoulders shaking with a suppressed laughter. 

She snickered, shaking her head. “Sounds like a very honest and cooperative friendship.”

“Oh, the best around. Perfectly even. I have the ideas, he has the heart.”

“How sweet. I can only imagine the trouble you two cause.”

“Oh trust me, you don’t want to.” He gave her a mischievous look. 

“So what is it you two do in the time you’re not digging through trash and starting problems?”

“I work in the newspaper,” he calmed his laughter. “Print work. Have you ever seen a print machine?” He offered. 

“No, but I’ve always wondered.” She hummed, leaning in in interest. 

“Well, they’re just these giant hunks of metal covered in ink. I work with loading up the print machines and rolling on the ink to press into the papers. Nothin’ fancy, really. But I always get the fresh scoop of news before anyone else.” He grinned cheekily. 

“Very nice, what’s your favorite column then? Do you favor the hot gossip?”

“Oh of course. Who cares about war and politicians, when I can know who’s been caught in a public affair.”

She gasped dramatically. “What do you know?” She inched closer. 

“I’ll never tell,” he teased.

“Oh you can’t do that!”

“Oh yes I can, it's my job!”

She groaned, waving her hand at him. “I’ll get you to tell me.”

He shook his head. “How do I know you’re not secretly working for a rival reporter? This might all be a grand scheme to steal our research.” He looked around the room in dramatic suspicion. 

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes that's exactly what I’m doing here.”

“See, I knew it.”

The pair spent the next two hours in lively conversation and banter. By the time their clothes were nice and dry, she was teaching him how to properly fold his clothes. He enjoyed the gentle way she scolded him. She loved the cheeky way he always had a new joke to tell. 

He exuded this comfortable confidence in himself, it was contagious. He was like a ball of light. He didn’t even notice the fond way she teased him, because all he could focus on was how enjoyable her presence was. 

Each moment with her was sparkling with life and oozing comfortable chemistry. 

By the time they had finished their laundry, he was doing all he could to stretch out the time with her. The sun was setting, casting the city in warm darkness. “Can I walk you home?” He asked, leaning against the machines.

She bit back her smile, glancing at his bags of laundry. “You want to carry all that through the city with me?”

He shook his head, then nodded at a car parked along the street. “I have somewhere to put it.”

She gaped at him, a shiver running down her spine. “You have a car?” She gasped. Nobody had a car- not normal people. The image she had been crafting of this sweet man was suddenly changing very quickly.

“It’s my family’s, we share it, of course.” He smiled at her shyly, suddenly looking a bit timid. 

“Wow,” she huffed. “Why not just drive me home then, mister Barnes?” She asked, trying to hide her shock with a bit of cheek.

 “Well because the night would end a lot sooner than I want it to.”

She hid her blush as she turned to look down the street. “Well go put your clothes away then, I’ll wait here.”

It was like the words found no end as they walked along. Bucky had taken up carrying her laundry for her, holding the basket under his arm as they walked. She was charmed by the gentlemanly act. 

“I’m-I’m serious-” Bucky cackled, almost tripping on a lift in the sidewalk. “He- he was trying to stop us from breaking news about the lawsuit, so he broke into the newsroom, and Mike got into this big fight with him-” he paused, catching his breath. “And he trapped his head in the press!”

“Oh my god- did the ink…?”

“Oh, he went down town with the headline stained into his cheek.”

She snickered, shoulders bouncing with laughter. They had started going back and forth, sharing stories of their lives- and evidently, this was his favorite as of recent. 

“Well, I don’t really have anything to beat that,” She sighed, glancing up at the stars. “I don’t get to go out and do much.”

“Why not?” He asked, composing himself.

She shrugged. “Oh, I don't know. I do love to go out, I love dancing and the theater and nature, I just love life. I just never get to go out much. My friend Betty and I used to go out together, but she has just been so busy recently, I haven’t had the chance.”

He nodded thoughtfully, chewing on his cheek in thought as they approached her front steps. “Would you like to go skating with me and my buddy this week?”

She paused, turning to look at him. “Really?”

He nodded, that cheeky smile twisting at her lips. “This friday, I’ll pick you up. You can bring your friend too.”

She couldn’t see it, but he was swallowing down a great deal of panic, awaiting her answer. She blinked at him in shock, then let out a delighted breath. “I’d love to, Bucky.”

And like that, she saw the man every week. She and her close friend would join him and his friend Steve for an event and dinner. He would pick her up from her home, greet her mother, then sweep her off for the night. 

Unlike many people their age, they never crossed that boundary of intimate friendship- not for a long time, at least. They spent their time as equals, enjoying each other's friendship and sharing life experiences. 

There was always something else there, something strong and warm and sweet, but they let it simmer and grow in quiet acknowledgment.

“Woah-!” She yelped as their seat was lifted off the ground. 

“Hold on, doll.” Bucky snickered, guiding her hands to the ropes at their sides.

From above, she could see it all. Lights and laughter blended together with the smell of cheap food and sugar. Children shrieked in laughter as they chased each other between booths. Teenagers egged eachother on in the lines leading up to the newest attractions.

She’d never been to Coney Island before Bucky. She’d never had occasion- or funds- to go. 

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, staring out at all the bright lights. 

They sat on one of Bucky’s favorite rides. Steeplechase’s Parachute Ride. It was technically a hot air balloon with cords bolting it to the ground. But instead of a basket, there was a two person seater. 

“Very,” Bucky smiled, looking at the way the breeze made her hair fluff up, whisping around her face. 

She glanced back at him, one of her hands still clutching tightly at his bicep. “You ain’t smooth, you know?” She fought the smile tugging at her lips.

He pressed a hand over his heart, mock wounded. “You hurt me, sugar.” 

She snickered, looking back out over the expanse of the boardwalk and the gentle waves of the ocean. “I do apologize.”

He dropped his hand, holding the ropes. “Mhm, very sincere.” He sighed. “You like it?” he nodded at the fair. “I thought you would. I hoped you would.” He smiled softly, his ears tinged a light pink.

“You thought right. It’s pretty from up here. You know I’ve never been on a ferris wheel?” She stared over at the giant ride across the way from them.

He gaped at her. “You’re kiddin’, right?” She shook her head. “Then that’s where we’re goin’ next. I hope you ain’t afraid of heights like that.”

“We’ll just have to see.”

And they did.

 Bucky dragged her from one attraction to another. The ferris wheel was her favorite. Bucky asked her if she’d ever thought about how machines like those ones worked- opening up the opportunity for her to get lost in her fantasies. 

She of course went on, rocking their metal seat as she leaned forward to get a look at the center of the wheel. She told him about how engineers had to design all those rides, working the ins and outs for safety and functionality.

Bucky grinned from ear to ear as he listened to her, fascinated with her curious mind. 

After the ferris wheel, he took her to get a funnel cake and another pound of sugar in cheap snacks. Once she felt sick from corn dogs and cotton candy, he decided they should take a cool down walk through the games.

Each booth was decorated in gaudy stuffed animals and small toy boxes. All of the games were rigged, they both knew, but it couldn’t take from their fun. 

Bucky nearly lost his mind playing that forsaken bottleneck ring toss game. She had to drag him away before he blew another pocket of change just on the chance to win her a stupid bear.

“Come on, I wanna ride that coaster.” She snickered, taking him by the arm.

“The Cyclone? Oh sugar, I’ve got a story for you.” He trailed after her.

“If it involves you torturing poor Stevie and makin’ him throw up everywhere, I already know.” She knocked her shoulder into his.

“How do you know about that?” He smirked, slipping his hand down her lower back to guide her through the crowd. 

“At the diner last week when you went to order our shakes, Stevie told me all about your last trip here.” She snickered. “Poor boy looked traumatized!”

“He had fun,” Bucky smiled, thinking back on the day he forced his friend to ride the rollercoaster until he threw up. He remembered patting his back until he was no longer green in the face.

“Oh I’m sure you thought so. I might have to come back here with Steve next time, show him some real fun.” She huffed.

“You pickin’ sides now?” He scoffed, manoeuvring them into the line.

“Maybe.” She smirked.

Bucky leaned down a little onto her level, his blue eyes sharp against the lowering sunset. “Now, I don’t like that. I found you first.”

“I ain’t no toy, Barnes.” She poked his chest gently.

He caught her hands in his. “Oh I know. But you’re gonna hurt my ego if you go spendin’ your time with my buddy instead of me.”

“Every man's ego needs a little hurtin’ every now and then.” She smiled, ignoring the soft blush in her cheeks.

He scoffed, pulling back. “I have a feelin’ you’re gonna be showin me plenty of that.”

“Oh don’t you know it.”

“Steve, over here!” She waved her arm dramatically in the air from where she sat on her blanket. The shorter man straightened when he saw her, a timid smile lighting up his face. Not far behind him, trailed an excited Bucky. 

The sun was still warm on her skin, coloring the sky a pretty orange as it readied to set. Around her, couples and friends and families alike sat on blankets, chatting and simmering in excitement. 

It was the end of summer, early august, when the music festival rolled into town. She was beyond excited, and so were the boys. They had all grown close over their shared love of music, so she decided they would all attend together. 

“Better late than never,” she scolded softly as the pair approached. 

Steve threw a look over his shoulder at his dark headed friend. “Ask him, he had to stop twenty times for the basket.” He said as he settled on the blanket. 

Bucky set a wicker picnic basket down in front of her, before taking his seat beside her. “Hey, you say that now, but if we didn't bring food you’d be whinin’ the whole night.”

She slapped his arm for his sass, chuckling to herself. She peaked inside the basket to find a few cans of coke and some snacks. “Well I guess I can’t be too mad, thank you, Bucky,” she sent him a soft smile.

He hid his blush by looking up to find the band setting up. “I’m shocked they haven't started yet,” he muttered. 

“This is the second band,” she huffed, squinting at the boys. “You missed the first one.”

“We’re sorry, I’ll make sure to give him hell for making you wait.” Steve offered. 

She grinned, bumping her shoulder with the blond boys. “That’s why you're my favorite.” She snickered when Bucky grumbled. “Anyways, shush, they’re starting soon.”

So the trio sat together, setting out their snacks to enjoy the show together. When the music started, the woman felt herself relaxing. It was a beautiful picture, painted by the sunset and couples standing to dance. The man singing had a silky smooth deep voice, powerful in the way it carried through the park. 

She took a sip of her soda, then climbed to her feet. She left her heels on the blanket, knowing they would just sink in the grass. “Come here, Stevie, let's dance.” She held her hands out, looking at him. The boy sunk into himself, shaking his head. 

“You know I can’t-”

“Oh, but you can,” She said, grabbing his arm and dragging him up. She glanced at Bucky over the boy's shoulder, who was snickering to himself.

She took Steve’s hands in hers and started hopping around on her feet. “Come on, just move,” she giggled, spinning around with him to the upbeat music. 

Steve stumbled along, doing his best through the laughter bubbling in his chest. Bucky watched the pair, grinning as he watched his best friend having such a good time. He also couldn’t help but enjoy the moment to fondly watch the woman. 

Since they’d all become friends she had taken to the lively feeling the two gave her. Every week, Bucky looked forward to seeing her. He especially loved moments like this, watching her spin and giggle. The way the sun caught the strands of hair that slipped from her loose curls. 

She dragged Steve into a dramatic twirl as the music picked up, the pair of them almost toppling over. “Alright- alright,” Steve laughed, slowing to a stop. “I oughtta stop now before I hurt myself- or you.” 

She sighed, letting him go to sit back down. She glanced over to Bucky, who continued to watch her. “What about you, mister Barnes? Can you dance?”

He scoffed, mock offended, as he stood. “Of course I can dance.” 

“I’ll have to be the judge of that,” she smirked, holding her hands out for him. She gasped when he tugged her close, leading them into a swing. She shrieked out a laugh as he took the lead, one hand on her hip, the other in hers, spinning them around. 

Her bare feet slid across the grass, a gentle breeze rustled through the trees. They pranced dramatically in the small patch of space beside their blanket. 

“Never doubt me, doll,” he teased, twirling her. 

She grinned, spinning and tripping into his chest. Bucky let them slow down for a moment. “You call this dancing?” She poked, her hands falling to his chest. 

They’d never before been so close, but it felt so easy- like second nature. He let his hands fall to her hips, his ears tinged a soft pink. “What would you call it, hm?”

“A mess,” she teased. 

Bucky scoffed, tilting his head back to laugh. “You think you’re slick, but you’re just trying to push my buttons.” She opened her mouth for a comeback, but yelped when he swiftly dipped her. 

She gasped, tilted back far enough to fall without his steady arm. “Shocking me into silence doesn't give you the last word.” She tried to steady her breathing. 

He pulled her back up, her hands steadying herself on his shoulders. He tucked a frizzy lock of loose hair behind her ear, a grin on his lips. “I think it does.”

The knock at her front door made her heart jump. She checked her reflection in the mirror by the door. When she cracked it open, she was met with a beautifully groomed young man. He wore a dark blue suit, his hair combed back nicely, and a nice watch to match. He held a single red rose between his fingers. 

“Evening,” she greeted, holding back her excited smile. “How can I help you?”

“Good Evening. I’m here to pick up a pretty young lady for a date.” He smiled, doing his best not to shamelessly rake his eyes over her. 

“Well I’ll just have to check inside, I don’t know if I have one of those on hand.” 

He clicked his tongue, finally letting himself look over her pretty pink dress and short red heels. “I beg to differ.”

She finally let her laughter escape, letting her door swing open. “I’ll have to warn her, you’re quite bold.”

“I have a feeling she already knows.” He stepped closer. “For you,” he held out the rose to her. She grinned, taking the pretty flower in hand. She brought it to her nose to smell. 

“Thank you, Bucky.”

“It’s not as pretty as you, doll, but I do what I can.” 

She ignored the blush rising in her cheeks as she stared at the rose. “You wait here, I’ll go put it somewhere safe.” She said as she hurried down the hall to place the rose in some water. She snagged her purse from the counter, then met him back at the door. 

He held his hand out to her, a cheeky smile on his lips. She slipped her palm in his after locking the door. “So, where to tonight, handsome?” 

He tilted his head back, looking dramatically in thought. “Well, I was hoping I could treat you to a movie. Maybe… the Phantom of the Opera?” He glanced at her sideways.

She gasped, squeezing his hand. “Oh I’ve been wanting to see that!” She said excitedly. “How did you know?”

“I have my secrets,” he teased, leading her down to the car. It was a shiny and new blue 1940s cruiser sedan. She felt fancy every time she sat inside it. He closed the car door for her once she was inside, then took his own seat.

“Your secrets are going to get you in trouble one day, mister Barnes.” She squinted at him, trying to hide her smile. 

The car rumbled to life as they pulled onto the street. “You’re distracting the driver, young lady.”

“You act like such an old man,” she giggled. 

“And you act like I’m some youngster,” he grinned, turning them down another street. 

“Well in my eyes you haven't changed a bit,” she snickered at his offended expression. 

“I’ve grown quite a bit in these years, you know.” He huffed. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

If he weren’t driving, he’d turn his head and glare at her softly.

.

“Tickets for two,” Bucky held up his fingers for the woman behind the glass to see. He slid the money across the small counter. She  blushed at his side, holding his arm. She knew he had money, but seeing him always spend it on her so easily got her flustered.

He guided her to the concession stand where he bought them a small bucket of popcorn- mostly for her, he barely cared for it. She was buzzing with excitement as they entered the theater. 

“You spoil me, you know?” She whispered as they took their seats.

“Oh I know,” he grinned, his blue eyes bright in the dark theater. 

“A gentleman isn’t so cheeky about it, though,” she pinched his arm.

“But a gentleman does buy his favorite girl snacks. I have good and bad, don’t I?” He set the bucket of popcorn in her lap.

She was thankful for the darkness of the theater, so he couldn’t see her warm red cheeks. “I’m your favorite?”

“My only,” he whispered, as the music of the film began. He slid his hand into hers again, interlocking their fingers. 

She bit back her smile, turning her attention to the screen. 

.

After parking outside her apartment, Bucky tugged her away from the front door. At first she was confused, but he proposed they take a quick stroll. 

She followed after him with a smile, holding him close by the arm. “It was a beautiful movie, don’t you think? I just loved the music.” She gushed. 

“It was nice,” he hummed, looking up at the night sky. “Would you fall for it? A scarred, masked man?” He glanced at her. 

“Mm, I wonder,” she pondered, spinning to stand in front of him. She held her hands up in front of his face. She squinted in thought, watching him snicker. “Maybe,” she surmised as he wrapped his hands around her wrists and lowered them. “Depends how mysterious he is.”

“Am I mysterious enough?”

“Oh, not nearly.”

He clicked his tongue, mock offended. 

“And you? If I was all scarred, forced to wear a mask and hide away, would you still long for me?” She asked, stepping closer to him. His hands fell to her waist.

“I’d long for you no matter the cause.” He muttered, glancing at her lips.

She rested her palms on his chest. “Oh yeah? What if I had no hair?”

He traced his finger along her cheek, then tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I’d think no different.”

“What if I were blind?” She closed her eyes, biting back her smile.

“I’d get to observe you freely, without worrying you’d catch me.” 

A laugh bubbled in her chest as she looked at him again. “That could sound ominous, if I didn’t know you.”

“Mysterious, even?” He grinned.

“Nope,” she smacked her red lips together. “Just ominous. Maybe you are the phantom, a voyeur, watching me from close and afar.” She whispered, leaning close. 

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’d never know. I’m too good at keeping my secrets.”

“I’ll pry them out of you one day. You could never hide anything from me for long.”

“So you say.” He grinned, glancing between her lips and pretty eyes.

She gasped dramatically. “Are you hinting that you have secrets I don’t know about?”

“Perhaps,” he whispered.

“Tell me!” She insisted, giggling as he suddenly pulled out of her space. She slipped her arm around his as he began walking them back to her apartment. “Oh please?”

He shook his head. “I have to work on being mysterious, you said so yourself.”

“Oh you can be mysterious to everyone else. I must know.” She insisted, chuckling.

“Not a chance. I’ll have to wait, confess my darkness near the end of the story.” He guided her up the front steps and towards her door.

“Any point in life could be the end of your story, mister Barnes. Might as well spill your secrets now.”

“I’m not going anywhere, doll.” He chuckled, bringing her knuckles to his lips. 

“You say that now. You’ll regret this when nobody knows your mighty secrets.” She blushed, watching him kiss the soft skin of her hands. 

“You know all the best about me, that's all I care about. And you, miss? Any dark secrets you’re dying to confess?”

She shrugged, busying her hands with adjusting his collar. “A few, but a woman should always have a few secrets for herself.”

“How contradicting.”

She smiled, stepping closer. “They say that's the perfect way to describe a woman.”

He shook his head slowly, staring down at her. “I’d describe you differently.”

“And how's that?”

“Perfect,” he whispered, a warm pink tinting the tips of his ears. She grinned up at him, brushing his jaw with her gentle touch. She leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. She pretended not to notice the way he chased the touch when she pulled back. 

“Thank you for tonight, Bucky.” She whispered. 

He nodded, his thumb rubbing circles on her hips. “I’d do it every night if I could.”

She chuckled, stepping back to open her front door. “If only,” she agreed. She paused, hand on the doorknob. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

Music wafted around them softly as Bucky held her close. Couples around them laughed, giggling into eachothers spaces. Bucky hummed softly to the lyrics, his palm sweeping down her back.

“I love this song.” She whispered against his shoulder, the gentle tune of I love how you love me by Bobby Vinton surrounding them.

“Oh yeah?” He muttered, looking down at her. 

“Mhm,” she smiled raking her nails gently through the short hairs on the back of his neck.

Bucky’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft sigh leaving his chest. He leaned into her touch, her fingers dancing along his skin. His thumbs pressed gently into her waist as he guided their slow sway. 

He opened his eyes to see her watching him. His lips tugged into a lopsided grin. “Let me take you home.” He whispered.

“Yeah?” She muttered breathlessly.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “Take me home.”

They were slow on their stroll, enjoying the feeling of the summer night air against their skin. They took their time, arms around one another as they pointed at the stars, picking out the brightest ones to name. 

There was no rush. 

There was just each other. 

So when her front door finally unlocked, and she beckoned him inside, he felt at peace. At home. 

A single lamp by the door flickered to life as she clicked it on, shedding her purse and scarf on the nearest chair. She glanced at the man over her shoulder.

“Help me with my necklace?” 

He smiled to himself, stepping into her space, her back against his chest. She plucked her earrings free as he busied his fingers with the clasp of her pearls. 

Bucky laid out the necklace on the vanity at their side, then traced his fingers along the column of her neck. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the exposed skin of her shoulder. She sighed, rolling her head to the side subtly. 

Bucky smiled to himself, dragging his lips and peppering small kisses in their wake along her throat. His hand slipped into her hair, tugging her pretty ribbon free, letting it flutter to the floor. 

She let him shower her in gentle affection, leaning back into him as his hands met her hips. She tilted her head to the side, catching his lips with her own. He hummed quietly into her mouth, warm and familiar. 

She shivered as his touch ghosted along the fabric of her back. 

 He pulled back, his lips brushing her ear, his breath warm.

“Let me, please?” He whispered, his finger toying with the zipper of her dress. 

She shuddered, nodding slowly. 

The zipper made a light buzzing sound as it released, dragging down her back. The warm air of her apartment felt fresh and prickling against her naked skin.

Bucky’s warm palms slid over her shoulders, guiding the dress to fall at her feet. He released a sharp breath against her neck as he looked down at her. 

She turned her blushing gaze to look back at him, over her shoulder.

“Oh sweetheart,” he whispered, turning her by the hips. Her hands found his chest. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, then to her jaw, letting his lips travel down her neck. To her shock, he slowly sank to his knees before her.

Her breath stuck in her chest as she watched him, slipping his thumbs beneath her stockings. 

He looked up at her, bright blue eyes, pretty pink lips, dark swept hair. He guided her tights down her thighs, his calluses raising shivers along her skin.

He traced a path down to her knees in kisses, his lips ticklish in the way they gently pressed into her. 

He slipped her heels from her feet, letting them clatter to the side. 

“Oh, Bucky,” she gasped breathlessly as he swept his tongue along her hip, just above her panties. 

“Let me take care ‘f you, sweetheart.” He muttered, his voice sounding deep against her body. 

“Okay,” she nodded. “Okay.”

When he finally shed his layers, standing before her naked and purely him, her breath hitched in her throat. He didn’t give her the time to worship how he did, as he guided her body back against the bed. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, spreading her knees to make room for himself. 

She shivered, his palms dragging patterns up her stomach and over her bare chest. She arched into it, his name falling from her lips. 

He groaned, leaning back over her. “So pretty, doll.” He slipped his fingers into his mouth, leaving his lips shiny and wet as he moved them between her legs. 

She shuddered at the first touch of him, warm and familiar, and so distinctly Bucky. “Bucky-” she moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“‘M right here, doll.” He kissed along her jaw, working her open with his slow hands.

She panted, dragging her fingers down his stomach to where he was aching. He shuddered, his head dropping to her shoulder as she wrapped her fingers around him. “So good, Bucky…” she whispered.

He groaned into her neck, pulling his hands from between her legs. His tongue swept across her throat. He pulled back. 

He looked so pretty above her, cheeks flushed, lips wet, hair a mess. And those eyes. Oh those eyes.

“Let me make you feel good, pretty.” He brushed his thumb across her lips. She nodded, kissing his thumbprint. A lopsided grin sparked his expression as he dove down to kiss her. 

She giggled against him, raising her knees around his hips. 

His hand pushed between them, aligning himself. She smiled into his kiss, their foreheads pressed together.

“I love you,” he choked, rolling his hips into her. His hand found hers, fingers locking together.

She gasped, her eyes fluttering as she curled a hand in his hair. She hiccupped, blinking through tears as she rocked her hips against him. “I love you too.”

“You’re enlisting?” The words had reality setting in on her all too quickly. Like a bucket of ice water thrown over her head. The war had been raging on for a long time, taking its toll on the world and her daily life. 

She’d been called to the workforce, given an option of ways she could support her country as the men were called to battle. She’d taken her pick of chasing after something she’d long given up. She worked with other women, building engines for fighter planes and military vehicles. It was hard work, but she felt passion growing in her every time she went to work. 

It was hard to ignore the war, doing what she did, but she did her best. If she thought about it for too long, the anxiety would set in. The past grief of losing her father to the military, the fear for the future, and now, the dread of what would become of her favorite person alive.

Bucky nodded, taking his hands in hers. “I’ve already applied-”

“And you didn’t tell me first?” She wanted to pull back, hurt clear on her face.

“I’m sorry-” he stepped closer, rubbing his thumb over her knuckle. “I just- I didn’t want you to talk me out of it.”

“I-” she stopped herself, lowering her gaze to the floor between them. She couldn’t deny that she would have begged him not to. She nodded slowly. “When?”

“Not for a while, I need to train first. But after that, they’ll be shipping me off immediately, I assume.” 

She swore at herself internally for the tears that burned behind her eyes. Why was she being so dramatic? This didn’t have to mean forever. It didn’t have to mean the end.

“Sweetheart, look at me, please.” He begged, his warm hand cupping her cheek. She slowly lifted her gaze to his. His expression softened, a sigh leaving his lips. “It’s gonna be okay, sugar.” He whispered, pulling her into a hug. “I’ll be okay. I’m good when I listen, even better when I try. I’ll be okay.”

She buried her face in his chest, clutching at his back. She nodded slowly. “Will you write to me?”

“Every damn day,” he whispered into her hair.

“Promise you’ll be careful?”

He nodded. “Of course, there’s no way I’m staying away for longer than I have to. Not when I have you waiting on me.”

Her stomach flipped at his direct words. She blinked away the tears in her eyes and nuzzled closer to his chest. She took a moment to listen to the sound of his chest rising and falling with breath. He was alive, and he would stay that way. He had to. “Does Steve know?”

He nodded. “He won’t quit trying to enlist with me.”

She pulled back, her hands on his waist. “He won’t give up, you know.” She lifted a brow. “That man has the heart of a lion.”

Bucky smiled, his own chest swelling with affection for the woman who loved his best friend with such intensity. “I know, but there’s other ways to help.”

“I could say the same thing to you.” She poked his chest. He caught her hand, his smile softening. 

“Too late.”

“Clearly.”

The train station smelled of smoke and oil.

Children cried from the sidelines, clinging to their fathers as they said goodbye. Carts of luggage rolled past. Brothers and friends cheered as they waved to each other, boarding the train.

She couldn't focus on any of it.

Bucky's lips pressed against hers, bruising and warm. His strong hands pressed against her lower back, curled in her hair. She trembled in his arms, hair nails biting into the green of his uniform.

He pulled back, his forehead resting against hers. His breath trembled against her skin.

"I'll be seeing you," she whispered, caressing his jaw.

He nodded against her, his lips twitching up. "I'll be back before you know it."

"You better." She huffed.

When he slipped from her fingers, moving towards the train as soldiers called, announcing final boarding, she felt her heart go with him. She tried not to cry. She didn't want to cry. She wanted him to remember her smiling.

He was only leaving for training. This didn't mean forever. But it felt like it.

He watched her from the window. He shoved it open and stuck his head out. "I mean it doll, I'm coming back for you." He shouted, a toothy grin flashing.

She shook her head at him, holding back a teary laugh. She stumbled forward, reaching up to catch his hand. "Sergeant Barnes, you better write me every damn day."

She wished she could reach him further. She wished she could pull him back into her arms.

He huffed, squeezing her fingers. The train blared, signaling its soon departure. He looked up to the cop patrolling the station. "Hey man, help me out here?" He shouted.

She glanced back, the large officer approaching her with a huff. She could guess he'd been doing this all day. She yelped as he lifted her from beneath the arms and boosted her up to the window.

Bucky leaned out further, his palms sliding along her jaw. He captured her lips in a desperate kiss, a desperate goodbye. She swallowed a choked whimper, her fingers curling in his hair.

"I love you, baby." He whispered against her lips.

She nodded, blinking away tears. "I love you too."

She wiped the back of her hand against the scarf in her hair, blue paint making her fingers sticky. The air smelled of oil and metal, the sounds of drills and shifting propellers causing a ruckus of noise.

She was slow and precise as she painted out the American insignia along the wing of a plane in the works. 

“Have you taken a break yet, ma’am?” A familiar voice called to her from behind. She nearly dropped her brush when she saw him. 

“What are you doing here?” She laughed, setting the paint can on the floor. She jogged up to him, wrapping him in a quick hug as he lifted her off the ground. 

“What, I can’t come visit my best girl?” He grinned, setting her back on the ground.

She swatted his arm, pulling back to look at him clearly. He looked just the same, tall, charming, and handsome. She last saw him three months ago, when he received his first leave to visit home since he started training. “No, you can’t, not unless-” her smile dropped. 

His expression turned shy and guilty. 

“You’ve finished your training?”

He nodded, his warm hands rubbing gentle circles on her waist. “Came here straight away. I wanted to see you.” 

She cupped his face, cradling him in her touch. “So you’re leaving then? Do you know where?”

“They’re shipping me off to Europe in two days time.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Wait here,” she pulled back.

He laughed in shock. “Where are you going?”

“To ask if I can leave early. You’re not leaving until you give me a dance first.”

.

Rain hailed down from the sky with vengeance, like God was warning her of future hardships. She peaked through her curtains, her stomach twisting. “I guess we aren’t going out tonight, are we?” She muttered, glancing back at Bucky, where he stood in her living room. 

The man was sifting through her records, picking one out. “That doesn’t have to change anything.”

She watched as he set the record on her record player. The music clicked on, filling the small apartment with warmth. He held his hand out to her expectantly. “Come here.”

She softened at the sight of him, gentle and sweet. She took his hand and allowed him to lead them into a slow sway. She rested her cheek against his chest, her eyes sliding closed. He hummed softly, his fingers tapping against her waist. 

She wanted them to stay in that moment forever, suspended in intimacy. She didn’t care what it looked like to other people, a man and woman, unmarried, dancing in her apartment. She didn’t care that she was different, or that he was different. She didn’t care that he had to leave, and that there was a war raging on outside.

 She just wanted to be with him.

“Do you remember when I helped you move?” His voice broke the soft silence, melting together with the music. She nodded into his chest.

“How could I not? The way you came crashing into everything.” She chuckled softly. 

“You make me sound like some rambunctious kid.” He huffed.

“Oh, well that's because you are.” She giggled.

“I beg to differ,” he denied.

“Oh really? You’re all grown up now then, I guess?”

“Mhm, big and strong.” He smiled down at her, that familiar charm oozing from his very being.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she said the title, trying to get comfortable with the word. “Very grown indeed.” It felt bitter sweet on her tongue. 

He softened, rubbing his hand down her back as they swayed. “I’ll be okay.” He whispered. 

She nodded, sliding her arms around his neck. “Promise you won’t change?”

He shrugged cheekily, “maybe, who knows? I might come back with a mustache and a German accent.” He teased.

She rolled her eyes at him. “I’d leave you high and dry,” she huffed.

“No you wouldn’t.”

“No,” she sighed, “I wouldn’t.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, letting the music fill the loaded silence between them. He brushed his thumb along her cheekbone, and she realized his hands felt rougher. Calloused from hard training. 

“Promise you’ll still love me?”

“There’s nothing in the world that could change that, doll.” He told her, his blue eyes sharp in the warm lamp light of her living room. “Nothing.”

“Promise you’ll come back to me?”

“I promise.”

Dear Y/n,

We have made it safely to Italy. It’s quite beautiful here, I think you would like it. I already feel my chest aching when I think of you. I miss you dearly. When I return home, I will take you to a nice Italian restaurant and tell you about all the words I’ve learned here. 

Yours,

J. Bucky Barnes

★

Dear Y/n, 

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking of our future, and honey I quite like it. I can picture nights in your arms, lulled to sleep under the melody of your voice. Until then, I’ll dream of you, and tell stories of your eccentric soul. The boys shame me for not bringing a pair of your pantyhose with me, I’ll have to remember it for later. 

Yours,

J. Bucky Barnes

★

Dear Y/n, 

I’d give my left arm to be with you right now. I guess I’m really in love with you doll, in fact beyond the guessing stage, it’s a fact. I love you very very much, darling, and will be the happiest guy in the country when you are Mrs. Barnes. I miss you every day. 

Yours,

J. Bucky Barnes

She had to make a choice. Blood, or metal. It wasn’t something she thought she’d have to weigh when she was a child, but it was something she was now faced with. 

Since Bucky’s deployment, she spent her time working hard on the machines she was tasked with repairing and manufacturing. She was taking Red Cross training on her weekends, as recommended by the Sergeants running her warehouse. Almost all the women were. 

It meant a constant stick of needles in her arms, and a constant stench of blood. There were days when she was run out of the warehouse, ordered to pursue her duties as a healer of sorts. 

She didn’t much enjoy it.

In fact, she detested it. Having to be faced with the reality of how violent this war was just made her sick. It made her afraid. It made her dread each letter she received, fearing one would read condolences about her long time lover. 

“Steve?” The woman gaped at the hulking form sitting at the bar. “It really… geez.”

The blonde turned around, a bright smile on his face as he saw the girl. “Hi,” his voice was still soft and timid, a far contrast from his new body. He wrapped her in a quick hug before gesturing for her to join him.

“I mean, look at you!” She laughed, feeling meek under his broad form. “Did it hurt?” She muttered, poking him in the arm. 

“A bit.” He chuckled. 

“Shouldn’t you have stretch marks, or something? I’d think your skin would tear open around all… that.” She gestured at him. The bartender came over and took her order. She had a martini, extra olives. 

He bit back a snicker. “I thought so too- but I guess not. Most of the technical talk went right over my head.” He took a swig from his cup.

She bit into an olive once her glass was set before her. “It’s quite impressive.” She nodded. She took a moment to really take him in, and all the things that had changed in just a few months. He still had that boyish smile, his top lip disappearing against his teeth. He had that soft gaze, still nervous to look people in the eyes. But he was different. 

Something beyond the physical.

He was changed by what had happened to him, by what he was capable of. “How are you?” She muttered, glancing down at her drink. She stirred the clear liquid with her toothpick, her lip tucked between her teeth as she thought of all that changed. 

“I don’t know.” He admitted. “It all feels-” he let out a heavy sigh. “I should be out there. With him.”

She nodded, feeling that bittersweet roll of her stomach every time she thought of him. It had only been a few months, but it felt like eternity. They went from seeing eachother once a week, holding each other in their arms, to a letter every now and then. 

“How do you think he’s doing?” 

He huffed, his lips curling in a laugh. “I think he’s doing just fine. He’s too stubborn to die.”

She snickered, sipping on her drink. “Now that I can agree.”

.

“Oh come on! You have to ask her out, Steve!” She gasped, slapping at her friend's shoulder. 

He shook his head, his cheeks flushed pink. “We’re in the middle of war. She’s- she’s busy. I barely even see her now, with the tour and all.”

“Oh yes, the tour.” She waved her hand. “But like you said, we’re in the middle of a war. There's no time to wait around.” She grinned over the lip of her glass.

He rolled his eyes at the girl. “You are one to talk, hon.” He squinted at her. “Everyone around us is running to the chapel in the wake of battle. Why aren’t you?” He raised a brow at her. 

She blinked at him, her cheeks flushing red. “Steve!” She laughed nervously. “You can’t exactly head to the chapel alone.”

“You know what I’m talking about. Why didn’t you two do it? Before he left?”

She felt stiff, her stomach twisting. She stared at the chipped wood of the bar. “I don’t know, really.” She muttered, her chest feeling sore. “I do wish-” she huffed, slapping a hand over her eyes. “We wanted to wait, you see? I knew he wanted to enlist, and he knew how hard it would be. We wanted to wait until he was home for good.” 

Thinking back on it now, she wished she would have dragged him to the chapel years ago. She wished she would have slipped a ring on his finger and planted a kiss on those pink lips long ago.

“Don’t wait, Steve. Just don’t.”

She, much to her own shock, was deployed. Not as a soldier, but as a medic and mechanic. The Red Cross was tasked with touring Europe, giving blood and aid wherever they could. She didn’t think she would be asked, but with her experience building and repairing engines, they decided she would be a rather nice asset. 

She wrote to Bucky, informing him of her shocking travels, hoping to hear from him before she left. The sad fact was that she hadn’t heard from him in weeks. The reality of that set her skin on fire, but she always took a moment to remind herself that no news is good news. An empty mailbox also meant there wasn’t a condolence letter waiting on her.

She wanted to write to Steve, but he was also on tour. Traveling the country- and even Europe- to uplift the spirits of the masses. So with only a few dear goodbyes to loved ones still back home, she set off to Europe. 

After only a few days, she found herself in Azzano Italy. She felt excitement buzzing in her veins at the thought of being in the same place as Bucky again. 

He took a piece of her heart with him when he left, and it now ached to seal that hole. 

Much to her dismay, the 107th infantry regiment wasn’t likely to just be sitting back at the base. They were gone, fighting a war that seemed impossible to end. 

She thought she would feel better, being so close- knowing he could return any day. But she was so deeply wrong. She spent her days in a stained tent, staunching wounds with her bare hands, begging death not to take another good man. 

She was faced with the most raw reality of the war. And suddenly she dreaded seeing Bucky. She feared seeing his beaten face be dragged onto a table before her, bleeding and dying right before her eyes. 

In her moments of reprieve, she found herself growing close with the infamous Peggy Carter. She was the only woman in the base that had a position of power. She held herself with a steady confidence, unafraid to put a doubtful man in their place. She was so deeply kind to the woman, though. Which she was beyond grateful for.

She always made sure to bite back her grin whenever Peggy asked about Steve. She wished she could scold the boy for not writing to the woman sooner. She always said as much.

Everything was wrong.

Everything was wet, soaked in mud, and rain, and blood.

Body after body was dragged into her tent. The screams of men pierced her ears, rattling in her bones. 

One, two, seven, eighteen, twenty nine, the numbers kept growing- but not enough. 

Not enough.

She searched the faces desperately, her fingers stained with the blood of dozens as she sifted through bodies. 

He wasn’t there. 

He wasn’t with them.

He wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t alive.

He was just gone.

She collapsed into soft mud and threw up everything in her stomach. 

She could hear the women singing from her tent at the center of the base. She couldn’t bring herself to move from her cot. Was it Steve? She wondered, she wished, she prayed. But she just couldn’t move. Her body felt devoid of life. 

It had been days. 

It had been an eternity since news came of the ambush. 

It had been a lifetime since she saw him. 

She was on the verge of being shipped home, the nerves and grief weighing her down so heavily she could barely focus. She spent every waking moment on her feet, tending to the dying. And when she wasn’t doing that, she was doing everything she could not to get sick- sobbing so heavily that her throat closed around dry heaves. 

She searched for his face everywhere she looked. 

He was never there.

“Y/n?” The familiar voice had the woman stumbling on her feet, blood soaked hands wiping hair from her face. 

“Steve.” She gaped at the man, her eyes welling up with tears. “Oh, Stevie,” she whimpered, falling into him. “Steve, he-”

“I know, I know.” He whispered, rubbing a fast hand along her back. “But listen, I’m going to find him, okay? I’m going after the 107th.”

The words felt like a fantasy to her ears. Like a far fetched dream- one only Steve could cook up. She looked up at him, her brows knit together deeply. “But-”

“I’m going.” His voice was quick and hard, like he was afraid she may try to stop him. “I have to- I-I have to.”

“You have to,” she whispered, clutching the dark green coat he wore. “You- I have to know.” She tried to steady the shake in her voice. “I can’t take not knowing.” Looking to the side, she wiped her cheek on her shoulder. “I need to- I need to know…”

“I’m leaving tonight,” he set a familiar hand on her shoulder. “Be safe, okay?”

She smiled wryly up at the large man. “Back at you.”

The sounds of men cheering from afar broke the silent prayer the woman was whispering over her cot. Her whole body went rigid, her blood ran cold. 

They were back.

She nearly tripped over the opening of her tent as she scrambled outside. They had been gone two days at most, but it felt like an eternity. It felt like her own world was slowly crumbling around her. Like the truth was slowly chasing her down. 

A truth she couldn’t bear.

A truth so sick, so deeply wretched, it might destroy her. 

A truth she was coming to slowly accept.

But then she saw him.

Standing there, beside a man dressed in the flag of freedom, was the love of her life. 

Dirty, bruised, beaten and bloody, but alive. 

Alive.

Her feet carried her the rest of the way, her mind taking time to catch up. His name left her lips in a cry, desperate for this to be real. Sharp blue eyes met hers, the set of his jaw loosening.

A sob left her throat as she threw herself at him- a rifle jabbing into her chest between them. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, pulling him so close he was almost one with her. 

The rifle fell at their feet. 

Arms wrapped tightly around her waist, lifting her feet from the mud. She sobbed freely into his collar, her fingers curling in his hair. He whispered into her shoulder, his voice ragged and tired. 

He repeated her name, chanting it like a prayer. 

“You’re here- you’re here…” 

She only noticed it then, but he was trembling. He swayed on his feet, holding her firm to his body. The sickening thought of what he may have endured crossed her mind. “You’re alive-” She cried, tears mixing with the sweat on his neck. 

The men around the couple whooped and hollered, cheering for a very singular type of victory. A very foreign one. One of love.

He lowered her slightly to stand on her own, his body slumping against hers; he longed desperately to fall into her, to find peace in her arms. She petted his hair, pressing soft kisses to his temple. “You’re okay…you’re okay…”

The train ride to England was spent in quiet whispers and gentle bandaging. The woman helped her wounded soldier into a cabin, helping him ease onto his seat. The adrenaline rush that had kept him running for so long was slowly fizzing out, and it was wearing on him.

She knelt before him, a medics bag at her side. 

Finally alone, she held his face in her hands, her thumb gently caressing his bruised cheek. His bruising looked peculiar to her eye, oddly but specifically shaped. She traced the purple lines. 

“I thought…” She swallowed, her voice cracking in the silence. He looked up at her through his lashes, his posture hunched. “I thought I lost you.”

He pressed into her touch, his palm covering hers. “I know,” he was weak, tired, and in pain, but he relished this moment with her. “I thought I was dead…”

Her heart ached in her chest, ideas of what he endured torturing her. “What…What happened?” She traced her knuckles along the soft part of his cheek. 

He shook his head slowly, shivering as memories flashed behind his eyelids. “I don’t know.” He started, leaning closer to her. “I was out of it- they gave me something. It felt like fire in my veins.” He swallowed, staring down at his hands in his lap. She realized he was afraid of what they’d done. Maybe it was poison. Maybe something else.

She nodded, gently petting his face. “We’ll fix it. Whatever it is, we’ll fix it.”

He glanced up at her through his lashes, his lip bitten between his teeth. He returned her soft nod, turning to press his lips to her palm.

She leaned up on her knees to pull him into a soft hug, rubbing her hand down his back. He rested against her shoulder. 

She watched the world pass by outside the window, pine trees wheezing by in a flurry of green. 

“You joined the Red Cross.” He muttered against her shoulder, his voice soft. 

“Mhm,” she hummed, raking her nails up his neck. “Didn’t have much of a choice at first. But I’m so glad I did,” she pressed her lips to his hair. 

He pulled back, cupping her face in his large palms. “I love you so much,” he whispered, pressing soft kisses to her lips. She let out a shaky breath, pressing closer. In the back of her mind, she could barely remember the last time they really kissed. He was always so gentle with her. She loved that about him.

But this moment, this kiss, it wasn’t even really about the act. It was about intimacy. The closeness. The feeling of being real under each other's touch. It was about feeling his breath against her face, about feeling the warmth of his tongue. It was about knowing he’s alive, he’s okay, and he’s with her.

She pulled back, her forehead resting against his. “I love you so much.”

“You’re going back?” The lighthearted air between the group fizzled away, leaving a trail of awkwardness in its wake. She stared at the group of men, her heart rate picking up steadily.

 She stood quickly, rattling the table, and stumbled away. 

She heard Steve call after them as Bucky followed her. “Y/n,” Bucky chased her, catching her wrist once they were alone. 

She spun back to face him, slapping her hands against his chest. “How could you not tell me?” She tried to keep her voice steady.

“I-”

“I mean- how could you? Why would you go back? After everything Steve did to get you back? After what happened- after what you went through?” She interrupted, her shaking hands tangling in her hair. “Why, Bucky, why?”

He gently took her wrists, leaning down to catch her eyes. “Hey, look at me- hey,” his voice lowered, softening around the edges. “That's why I have to do it, baby. I can’t-” he gulped. “I can’t let them do it alone. I can’t let Steve do this alone.”

She blinked through the tears gathering in her eyes, trying desperately to ignore the sickness swirling in her gut. “I can’t do that again, Bucky.”

“I know-”

“We-” she gasped, tilting her head back, trying to keep the tears at bay. “We were supposed to get married.”

He gently took her face in hand, his brows knit together. “We will.” He promised. “There isn’t a thing in this life that could stop me from making you mine.”

“Except death,” she whispered, leaning into his thumb as it swept away her tears. 

“I’ll have Steve this time, okay? I’ll have a super soldier having my back, sweetheart.” He smiled. “I’m coming home.”

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to have faith in him and his men, in Steve. But she felt this gnawing, gut wrenching feeling that if she let him go, he would never come back. But she also knew, there was no stopping the thick headed man. Not when Steve was involved.

“I can’t stop you,” she accepted. “I know I can’t.” He watched her sadly, silent- knowing he wouldn’t deny it. “I chose a man who would never back down, didn’t I? It’s all my fault.” She huffed.

He smiled gently, wrapping her in his arms. “All your fault.”

“What?”

The words- short and quiet, whispered, like they were too awful to say- stuck into her skin like needles. 

“He-” Peggy cleared her throat, voice raw and eyes red. “They didn’t make it.”

Slow, like time had stopped just to elongate that moment, she felt her heart clench in her chest. 

Something cold and dark swirled in her veins, numbing her body. “They didn't-” Her voice broke, her chest restricting. She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t. 

It was wrong. 

It was all wrong. None of this could be real, it just couldn’t.

“It was reported that he- he took Captain Roger’s shield and fired at the enemy. He was protecting Rogers.” Peggy’s expression was cold, like she too was trying not to cry. “The side of the train was blown open. Barnes- he just…”

“Don't-” that name. Oh god, his name. 

It couldn’t be real. It wasn’t. It just wasn’t. 

Everything in her swayed, her breath coming in quick pants as she tried to steady herself. “He-” Tears burned behind her eyes, coming too quick to blink away. She couldn’t breathe. 

She couldn’t think.

He was gone.

She pressed her hand to her chest, hard and rough, hitting the center of her breasts. She was shaking, moving in denial. She needed to breathe, she needed to stop the ache- the tight twisting and twisting of her lungs and heart. 

It was all wrong

She was sobbing now, wet streaks burning cold against her heated skin. She couldn’t feel anything as her body hit the floor. Not the cold concrete. Not the torn skin of her knees. Not the concerned touch of Peggy.

Nothing but the all consuming grief that suffocated her.

A/N: Whew! I put it all in one for this one. This is one of my very favorite works I've ever done! I have a soft place in my heart for 1940s Bucky. Also yes I do have a part 2 where she ends up in the future and he sees her again and its sad as fuck (As I do)

[sweetsbfreex]

Bucky gets drafted I

summary: what if bucky was never taken from hydra? What if through all his ptsd, Bucky had a wife and two kids to come back to. 

wc: 2259

warnings: talk of war?

-

February 1942

The whirring of the machinery is heard throughout the brownstone. It’s only twelve, but everyone has been fed and you need to finish this before Sunday. A beautiful red smock dress to wear with black mary janes and ruffle socks. 

You had to, your sweet Adelaide had pleaded with you for a new dress. Not in an ungrateful manner, no, but this Sunday the Children’s choir would sing for everyone. So here you are, focused, pushing through the red cotton as the matching thread pierces through. 

Bucky is on child duty. Seven-year-old Adelaide practices her reading, ever the perfect girl, sitting prim on the floor, legs out and a book between. Ten-month-old Georgie (George), named after the late George Barnes, plays with his wooden blocks next to his sister. Stacks them, then crashes them down. 

Bucky is sat up at the end of the couch, ears pierced to the radio. The list of rationing only grew, the fear for his family only grew, many women were working now, volunteering their time away from their families. It seems things are only getting worse before they get better. 

He sighs, deflating into the sofa at what he’s hearing. 

“Daddy?” a voice snaps him out. 

“Hm?” he answers.

“What is this word?” Adelaide points at her book, as if he could see a thing. So he waves her over and when she’s close, sits her on his leg. 

“What word, Addie?” he asks and she points to the word again.  “Sound it out with me, ‘skw-er-l’” 

She tries and tries, and within those attempts James is there to guide her along, encouraging her to try again when she doesn’t get it right.

His bright spark he likes to call her at times. She’s intuitive and loves to learn. Every night, without fail, either him or y/n were meant to quiz her on at least ten words, like a spelling bee. If there was room to ask why, she would.

A rap is heard on the door. 

“Who’s that?” Addie asks. The attention of Georgie is also grabbed as he looks up at his father with an open mouth and a wood block in hand. 

“I’ll go find out, look after your brother and keep practicing” he kisses the side of her head, before setting her beside him, and walking straight to the door. 

…

“James Buchanan Barnes?” is the first thing Bucky hears from a pristine young-man standing on his welcome mat. A pressed black dress shirt, green tailored pants, a green tie, with shining wing tipped black shoes, and a side cap dresses up the man. 

The man’s eyes are void, almost sad (if he could guess) and he has to stop himself from looking at the gash on his cheek. 

“Yes."

An envelope is thrusted towards him and his heart drops, he could hear it shatter from a mile away. His ma wouldn’t take well to this, his sister wouldn’t, Steve definitely wouldn't, weeks without seeing his kid’s bright face would kill him. Y/n. 

“What is this?” he looks down at the letter accusingly, keeping his trembling hands by his side. 

“Mr. Barnes” The man persists, his voice softer it seems, as if he gives his condolences. 

“Thank you” Bucky has no choice but to smile and take the letter from the man’s outstretched hand. 

The man gives a curt nod in response and walks away, to hover a stormy cloud over someone else’s bright day it seems. It seems the list can only grow larger, will it ever end? He shuts the door and stares down at the envelope in his hands. His name and the address of their home is written neatly in the middle. 

He rips the bandage off his bruise. Ripping into the envelope until the letter is open and held between his hands, and his eyes fly over the ink. 

To, James Buchanan Barnes

notified that you been selected…army

report to the Local Board named above at 107th Infantry Regiment.

10:00 am on the 26 day of February, 1942. 

Only a week. 

“Daddy!” Addy calls for him impatiently. 

“One- one second, sweet girl. Just need to talk your ma for a split” he shouts back, before hearing her dramatic sigh in response. 

He strides to the stark white door of her sewing room, knocks once to get her attention then walks in. His wife is sitting at her sewing table, whose eyebrows are knit and her bottom lip rolled in. Just like his sweet Addie. Unlike many men, James had no problem letting everyone know both their kiddos got their brightness from Y/n. 

“Honey,” Bucky calls out, fingers fiddling with the papers. 

“Yes? I’m almost done, honey, do the kids need anything?” she glances up swiftly, then goes back to her work. 

“I just need to talk to you for a quick second, if that’s alright.” 

She removes her hand from the crank of the sewing machine. Noticing the worry clouding her husband's features. The swish of her polka dotted, a-line dress fills the air.  

Her hand clutches the lapel of his striped suit, while the other splays against his forehead, “What’s wrong, honey, are you out of sorts?” His skin felt normal and his eyes weren’t the prickly pink they usually were when he was sick. 

“No, no, I’m solid.”

At least he hopes he would be, he thinks to himself. Removing her hand from his forehead and kissing her knuckles gently. He can subconsciously feel the heat rising in her cheeks, watching her eyes look at anywhere but him. 

Time to rip off the second bandage. He raises the letter between the two of you. She stops and stares intently at the piece of paper and the envelope next to it. 

“What is this?” she asks, staring into his sky-blue eyes. 

Bucky doesn’t need to say anything, his softening eyes tell her everything she needs to know. Bucky couldn’t fool the young man at his step, and there was no way Y/n would be able to fool Bucky. 

“I leave in a week”

She lets out a breath, before she’s stepping away. One hand splays over her waist while the other presses a hand to her throat. Her head shakes side to side as tears pool in her eyes. She shouldn’t be surprised, Bucky is perfect in every way. Healthy in every way, of course he would be drafted. They both knew this, when was the only question that dangled in front of their faces.

“It’ll be okay. Doll, look at me” he clasps your flushed face tilting it up. 

“Oh, Bucky this is-- this is--” her words break up and before she knows it she’s broken into an uncontrollable sob, shoulders bobbing and an unbroken stream falls down her face. 

He hushes you, bringing you to his chest as his hands run up and down your back. 

“You can’t leave me, us… Trash it!” you pull away, eyes wide and tinted. “They’ll never know, Bucky”

“Honey, you’re talking junk, you know that can’t happen.” he coos, his palms take her face once again, thumbs running circles on her cheeks. 

“Please.” 

She wasn’t in her right mind is the only excuse she can think of. Her mind is running a mile a minute with a thousand gory scenarios, things she’s only read about and heard about. She didn’t want any of that for Bucky. 

“It’ll be okay, I’ll be okay and i’ll come to the three of you in one piece” he crouches down slightly, so you’re at the same eye level “I promise” he speaks softly. 

“You can’t promise something like that”

“I can and I will” he brings you into his chest, kissing the top of your head. 

“Would you be dismayed if I proposed that you break a leg? You’d still be an honorable man in my eyes” she says, voice muffled against his dress shirt. 

“It’ll be okay, honey, I promise” he answers with a breathy chuckle at the end. 

-

That night he breaks the news to Addie. She tries to stay strong at first, only humming in response with a tight smile on her face before tears run down her face silently. He consoles her as much as he can. Reassuring her that he would be alright, that everything would be alright. At some point this would all end and she’d have him back in one piece. And it repeats itself twice as he consoles his mother and sister. 

Telling Steve was one of the easiest bandages, no sticky residue was left behind.. He, of course, took in the slight disappointment on Steve’s face. Steve’s been trying like hell to get enlisted, the only thing holding him back was the long list of health issues and his small stature. 

Never the matter, he’s proud of Bucky. He knows his sharp mind will keep him safe. He’ll miss him while he’s gone and he’s promised to keep an eye on his favorite three while they’re gone. As long as he’s known Bucky, never in a million years did he see him falling in love and settling down with anyone.

“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” Bucky points a playful accusatory finger towards Steve.

Steve only chuckles breathily before he’s slammed into Bucky’s chest. 

-

The week whirls by, as if Y/n’s prayers for the days to slow down even for just a second aren't heard. Just three days ago Bucky stopped by the enlistment depot to get everything he needs, including his uniform. 

Two days ago, after getting home from work, Bucky had taken a quick nap in the living room. George laid on his chest, his chubby cheeks squished against the breast of his coat; and his tiny fist clasped around a lock of Bucky’s hair. On the other side of Bucky, lays Adelaide, who snuggles up to his side while she watches the television. 

Adelaide has stuck to her father’s side like glue this past week. 

You stood by and watched the three silently, like a shadow, knowing days like this were slowly dissipating until his departure. 

His last day at home, Bucky takes his family to Coney Island, their favorite place. Bucky doesn’t let money hold him back as he throws it all away to put a smile on his kid’s faces. He buys them as many tickets as they need, gets them whatever they want to eat, and wins them as many stuffed animals as he can-- sending a wink to his wife as he throws the rings onto the milk bottles. Knowing how bittersweet this moment was, their first date was Coney Island, and now he’s winning her a prize, like all those years ago, except he’s going off to war. 

Presently, the both of you lay in your dimly luminated bedroom. Bucky has just read Adelaide, her last bedtime story for an unknown time, he’s made it extra special by doing a voice for every character and acoustic effects at every scene. 

Your head is laid in the crook of his neck, and a hand runs up and around his toned chest. You’re winded within his arms, his fingers running circles around your shoulder. 

At the moment all you wanted was to sink into him like the sugar cubes in his coffee. You wanted to keep everything about him in eidetic memory. 

The slope and flat bridge of his nose, his startlingly-intense blue eyes that always looked at you with adoration, his always perfectly gelled hair, and his heart of gold that fills his family with love (something most of your friends couldn’t say.) 

Bucky did the same, engraving everything from your scent to the plush of your skin to his mind. 

A moment passes before you speak up. 

“I don’t know what to say, and I know i’ll regret it later”

“You don’t gotta say anything, just promise you’ll take care of yourself and the kids, maybe visit Steve once in a while or invite him to dinner. Just make sure he’s alright?”

You nod in agreement. 

The way Bucky acts on his overcome emotions is automatic. He pulls you in for a searing kiss, his hands roaming all over your body as if it were braille. Your hands rest on his broad shoulders, squeezing them when Bucky pulls away from your lips to your neck. 

The night is full of heavy, panting breaths and scorching, gently touches. 

When Bucky does that trick you love so much, you have to muffle yourself in your pillow. 

The night is filled with sugared words from Bucky. As he calls you his sweet girl, kisses you everywhere he can, and drains you with every push of his hips. 

-

Afterwards, the both of you are slicked in sweat. You both lay on your sides, facing each other, and holding onto each other. Time seems endless in his embrace. 

“J-James” 

Everything overcomes you within minutes, as you cover your face. It’s wretched and draining as the mountain collapses. It was happening. He would be leaving in just a few hours, and there was nothing she could do about it. 

Bucky pulls your head into his chest swiftly, shushing you as he cradles the back of your head. Kissing the top of your head in comfort. 

“You-- You have to p-promise to come back safely.” You pull away from his chest, eyes glazed over in tears. 

“Baby, you know I can’t promise that. All I can tell you is that I’ll try my best. I promise I'll try my best.” 

-

tysm for reading!! I missed writing and can't wait to tell this story <3

pls don't forget to like & reblog

[ailoda]

updated: 17.01.25

ᯓ★ 40s!au

Just One Kiss (❤❅): Bucky Barnes has been chasing after you since he was ten years old, but you’re determined not to give in. How long can you hold out when all he’s asking for is just one kiss? (@sarahwroteathing)

Decades Apart (❤❅✘): what if Bucky decided to return to 1949 with Steve? Back to his old life, back to the world he knew. Back to the love of his life that he couldn't - wouldn't - forget, even though they were decades apart. (@catharsisfalls)

Peace (❅): Bucky's reminiscing about a woman during the war leads to his demise.(@srgntjamesbuckybarnes)

Set Me Free (❤❅): once upon a time, a soldier fell from a train. Thankfully, this time, he is found by gentle hands, and a beautiful voice keeps him safe from the cold.(@intrepidacious)

Look At Me (❤❅): she never expected to fall so deeply for Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes, what with his skirt-chasing tendencies and cocky personality. Except how was she to know war would change everything she thought she wanted? Suddenly, she wanted him. (@rosepetalsinwinter)

Fleeting Love (❅): Bucky Barnes meets a woman in France who he can’t help but fall for. A love story meant for only one night in the streets of a city destroyed by war.(@moonlight-prose)

Every Breath You Take (✘): Bucky can't help but spend his free time watching you. (@sweetiebarnes) (warning: Bucky being a creep, voyeurism, exhibitionism, stalking, obsession)

Touch (✘): Bucky knows exactly how to help you relax on top of the Ferris wheel. (@sweetiebarnes)

Until I Found You (✘): after a date at the new exposition, your jealous ex decides to pay you a visit. (@delicatebarness)

First Date, Last Night (❤❅): you were supposed to go on a date tonight, but Bucky just had to interfere. It doesn’t make any sense, either. It’s not like there’s anything going on between the two of you. (@intrepidacious)

Taste Test (❤): 1940s!bucky and his girl getting ice cream on their date at Coney Island. (@intrepidacious)

Chronicles (❤❅): the story of you and Bucky as told through different dates. (@cosmicbucky)

Empty Words (❤❅): Bucky had the heart eyes for the little nurse who had just transferred. (@lanabuckybarnes)

Drafted (❅): Bucky has to tell you that he leaves tomorrow but not without leaving you with plans for when he gets back. (@tom-holland-parker)

Heroes Get Remembered (❅): "Heroes get remembered, but legends never die." Bucky read the words, but he couldn't process them. Hero? Legend? Bucky wasn't either of those things. Those words were reserved for generals, warriors, doctors... a little punk from Brooklyn in stripey tights who didn't know when to give up... and a young nurse who threw herself in a warzone to save the ones she loved. (@justfandomwritings)

The Fate's Design (❤❅): flower, gleam and glow, let your powers shine. Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine. Heal what has been hurt. Change the fates' design. Save what has been lost. Bring back what once was mine, what once was mine... (@anonymityisfunwriter)

new! Promise Me (❤❅): Y/N kept being reincarnated into the world for seemingly endless of lifetimes with the lasting, vivid memories of her past lover during the 40's, Sargent James B. Barnes. While she thought this was a 'punishment' for her sins, she was also unknowingly oblivious to the fact that James was still alive somewhere, almost forever frozen in the time. (@winterarmyy) (warning: graphic violence. deaths. mention of suicide)

[loversrocktvgirl2]

Yello :3

I know I made a req like, 2 weeks ago

But I have another lmao

What about Bucky and Steve with an s/o who absolutely adores and loves the 40's era. Like, the fashion, the music, the vibe, etc. 🤭🤭🤭

I feel like it'd be so rare to find someone who likes the older periods of time, let alone for people originally from the 40's to have them as an s/o

Also please please please take care of yourself!!! Drink water, take a break, have a nap, have a snack, etc.!!!<3<3<3

Take your time cuz I'm sure you've got a bunch of other reqs :)

*noms you lovingly*

hihihiiiiiii

this is so funny to me, because i had a HUGE 1940s and 50s phase when i was a teenager (i’m talking like my 14th birthday party was 1950s themed and i made people come dressed up)

anyway, i loved this, thank you for the request! i actually don’t get too many so this was wonderful <3

my mini multiverse of madness…

40s Baby Headcannons (Steve, Bucky)

word count: 0.6k+

masterlist

Steve 

Steve has kind of adapted to modern life. He has his list of everything he needs to catch up on, and sometimes, it makes him feel a little behind. But he likes the modern world, and he likes learning about it. Steve is never one to back away from a challenge, and the new world certainly feels like one to him. 

He’s asked you about modern things that you like before. You’d mentioned a couple things (how he needed to listen to All Too Well and watch Shrek, probably), but you’d offhandedly said that you kind of preferred vintage things anyway. Steve nodded and wrote down what you’d asked him to do, and almost forgot about your comment about liking vintage things. 

Then, Steve started to notice some clues.

Your little stack of vinyls on top of your dresser, with the Glenn Miller Orchestra and the Ink Spots. The makeup you had in your bathroom, ones he’d seen in the 40s, with the tutorial pamphlets. Your DVDs of It’s A Wonderful Life and Citizen Kane. He even saw dresses in your closet that were cut like the dresses from the 1940s. 

Then he saw you one morning, taking out heatless curls and humming a song by The Andrews Sisters. 

Steve at first thought that maybe you were doing this for him, trying to understand the time that he came from. So he asked you about it. 

And then you laughed and said, “Oh, I just really like the 40s. I didn’t want to weird you out or anything.” 

Steve finds it fun now, since you like so many of the things that he grew up doing, seeing, or listening to. 

You’re his favorite dance partner, and he feels like you get him. 

Bucky 

Bucky saw you get dressed up before you started dating, while you were both living in the Avengers Tower. He saw your makeup, your hair, and your dress and he recognized it. Because it was so unmodern, and it felt like he was in the 40s again for a quick second. And it kind of stopped him, because he was surprised that you even liked that kind of thing. 

Later in the week, you showed him what Pinterest was for the first time. And he saw the boards that you had. One of them? 40s fashion. You genuinely liked this. Well, okay, he did too. 

Bucky pointed at the screen and asked, “you like this kinda style?”

You nodded. “Oh, yeah. I think it’s beautiful.”

Bucky nodded a little and thought for a moment. “Do you just like the fashion or do you like other parts of 40s?”

When you told him that you liked listening to 40s music, well, that kind of made his day. Bucky had tried to do what Steve had done in terms of catching up on the modern era, but he hadn’t connected with it in the same way that Steve had, whatever the reason for that was. 

The next day, you heard Bucky in the kitchen, singing I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire to himself, and you started singing along. It surprised him enough to stop him from singing, to which you quickly said, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to stop you.”

He assured you that it was okay, and you heard him start singing again a few minutes later. 

When you finally got the nerve to tell each other that you liked each other, your very first date was some good old fashioned dancing, and you had a great time. Bucky felt like he was made for you. 

taglist @spaceycat @vidanand @xo-cench @raikan624 @yeehawgiddyup13 @wpdarlingpan @puer-aurea

[the-winter-spider]

Willow | 1/2

Pairings: 1940sBucky x Agent!Reader, Bucky x agent!reader

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: Nothing really

A/N: This fic was inspired by @vibraniumqueen message sent to me!! Hope its sort of what you requested! I got carried away and now have to post this in 2 parts lol

Im not like the biggest fan of this buuuuut after writing over 15k words total for the whole fic i gotta post it lol ALSO i definitely did not edit this lmao oopsie

The door slid open, and in walked Nick Fury, his presence commanding the room as always. He didn’t bother with formalities; he never did.

“Agent,” Fury began, his voice low and steady. “We’ve got a mission. One that never happened, and one you’ll never speak of again.”

You nodded, your face impassive, though your mind was already racing. Missions like these were your specialty. You didn’t operate in the spotlight. You weren’t one of Fury’s public heroes or a celebrated Avenger. You were a shadow, a weapon honed in the dark, moving through the world unnoticed. A ghost.

Fury crossed the room, his trench coat brushing the floor as he moved. “We’ve identified a Nazi stronghold in 1941, deep in occupied Europe. They’re in possession of critical documents, plans and technology decades ahead of their time. We can’t let those files survive the war.”

You glanced at the map, your mind already calculating. “Time travel,” you said, your voice calm, though the weight of the mission began to settle on your shoulders.

Fury nodded. “You’ll be stationed as a nurse with the 107th Infantry. They’ll be arriving at a field camp near the stronghold in a few days. Your cover is simple: blend in, gain access to the target, retrieve the files, and get out. No deviations. No attachments.”

You resisted the urge to scoff. No attachments. That had been drilled into you since the beginning. You were trained to be invisible, to serve a mission and then disappear without a trace. Your past in the Red Room had taught you that much, and SHIELD had only refined it.

“I assume I’m working alone,” you said.

Fury’s expression didn’t change. “You always do.”

It was true. You were a ghost in every sense of the word. You’d spent your entire life operating on the fringes, never part of a team, never part of their world. You knew of the Avengers, of course, who didn’t? But they didn’t know you. You weren’t a part of their grand battles or their legendary victories.

Well, except for one. Natasha Romanoff. She’d been a fleeting presence in your life, a reminder of your shared origins in the Red Room. You’d trained in the same shadows, fought the same demons. But even then, you hadn’t truly even known her, you wouldn't let yourself. She’d been a specter of a different life, one that had moved on without you. While she got recruited there, Fury thought you were best suited in the shadows.

You refocused as Fury handed you a dossier. Inside were detailed maps, forged documents, and a small vial containing a glowing blue liquid. The device that would send you back in time.

“You know the drill,” Fury said, his tone as sharp as ever. “You’re not there to change history, only to secure our future. In and out. No one remembers you, and you don’t bring anything or anyone back.”

You nodded, flipping through the dossier. “And the 107th?”

“They don’t know who you are, and they never will. You’re a nurse. That’s it. But one name on that roster might ring a bell.” Fury tapped the folder, and you found it instantly. Barnes, James Buchanan.

The name didn’t spark recognition, but it did send a strange ripple through your thoughts. “Why him?” you asked.

Fury shrugged. “No reason. He’s just another soldier in the unit. But don’t let that distract you. This mission isn’t about making friends, and it damn sure isn’t about saving anyone who doesn’t need saving.”

You clenched your jaw. Fury’s words were a reminder of the line you couldn’t cross. You’d trained for this moment for years, honing your skills to perfection. You were designed to be unseen, unheard, and unfelt.

Fury’s voice snapped you back. “You’ve got your orders. Do your job, Agent. Leave no trace.”

You took the dossier and the vial, tucking them away with practiced efficiency. “Understood,” you said, your voice steady, devoid of hesitation. But as you turned to leave, the familiar mantra echoed in your mind: No attachments. No connections. You’re a ghost.

When you finally opened the dossier, your eyes landed on a photograph. Barnes. The name was familiar, but it wasn’t until you stared at his face that something inside you stirred. A strange sense of recognition flickered in the back of your mind. You knew him or at least, it felt like you did.

You flipped the page, your pulse quickening as more details came into view and then, you saw it.

The Winter Soldier.

The words stared back at you, cold and unfeeling, but they sparked a storm of emotions you weren’t prepared for. You knew the name, of course. Everyone in this business did. The ghost story whispered in shadows, the assassin whose presence was felt long after he disappeared into the night. But what you didn’t know was the man behind it.

Your gaze drifted back to the photograph, and for a moment, everything else fell away. His eyes. Even through the grainy black-and-white image, they stood out haunted, distant, yet somehow familiar. There was innocence there, a quiet humanity buried beneath the weight of the darkness he would come to bear.

You tightened your grip on the file, your knuckles whitening. Ghosts weren’t meant to feel, and yet here you were, shaken by a face from the past you couldn’t place but somehow couldn’t forget.

Flipping through the pages, you scanned his history—Brooklyn, 1941, the 107th Infantry. Your breath caught as more images filled the pages. Pictures of him before he became the Winter Soldier: laughing with other soldiers, standing beside a scrawny young man labeled Steve Rogers, of course you knew him as Captain America but no one would ever know you. Then, the darker photos followed. HYDRA. The experiments. The cold, dead stare of a man who had been stripped of everything.

The door to your quarters slid shut with a soft hiss, and for a moment, the silence was almost suffocating. You placed the dossier and the small vial of glowing blue liquid on the steel table in front of you. The mission parameters were clear, the risks higher than usual, but none of that was new. You’d done this before, moving through missions like a shadow, leaving no trace. Yet, something about this one felt… different. Heavier.

You sat down, the cold metal of the chair grounding you. Flicking open the dossier, you reviewed the details again, committing every piece of information to memory. Maps, personnel lists, cover identities. You’d be stationed as a nurse in a field hospital near the front lines. A perfect cover for blending in. Your forged papers were flawless, down to the tiniest detail.

Your name was different now. Your past erased, rewritten to fit the narrative of a 1940s nurse.

Ghosts didn’t get attached. Ghosts didn’t feel. You weren’t there to alter history or forge connections. Your mission was simple: retrieve the files, destroy them if necessary, and get out.

You pushed the dossier aside and picked up the vial, turning it over in your hands. The blue liquid shimmered faintly, a reminder of the power it held. Time travel was a delicate operation, one that required precision and absolute control. There was no room for error.

You placed the vial carefully into the injector and secured it around your wrist. The faint hum of the device powering up was the only sound in the room.

Your internal monologue began to surface, unbidden.

You weren’t supposed to be here, not in this timeline, not in their world. You’d been forged in the Red Room, molded into an instrument of precision and silence. SHIELD had found you, given you purpose beyond the shadows of your past, but you had never stepped into the light. You were designed to operate in the margins of history, invisible to the heroes who saved the world.

It hurt thinking of Natasha, her voice, her presence in the Red Room. She had been a beacon of strength. But she had walked away from that world, found a new family. You? You remained in the shadows, bound to missions that no one could know about, missions that didn’t exist on paper. You didn't exist on paper. You just didn't exist, you never would.

You stood and approached the small mirror on the wall. The face staring back at you was calm, unyielding. But behind your eyes, you could see the tension creeping in.

You’re not doing this for glory or recognition. You’re doing this because you’re the only one who can.

You reached for the pack of clothing and equipment laid out on the nearby table. The nurse’s uniform was meticulously crafted, down to the period-accurate buttons and insignia. As you slipped into the attire, you felt yourself becoming the role. The transformation was seamless, automatic, a ritual that pulled you deeper into the identity you were about to assume.

Finally, you secured the last piece: a silver locket around your neck. Inside was a tiny microchip, a piece of technology far beyond anything the 1940s could comprehend. It was your failsafe, your tether back to the present.

A soft chime from the injector reminded you it was time. You glanced around the room, taking in every detail, knowing this might be the last familiar sight you’d see for a while. Then, you pressed the button on your wrist.

The world around you began to shift, colors bleeding into one another as time folded in on itself. Your heart pounded, but your expression remained stoic. You’d trained for this, prepared for every contingency. You were ready.

As the light around you intensified, your final thought was simple, resolute: You are a ghost. Leave no trace.

The world snapped into focus, and you were standing in a field hospital in 1941, the distant sound of artillery fire echoing through the air.

The mission had begun.

The salty breeze off the English Channel carried the smell of sea and steel, a sharp reminder of the battles waged across its waters. You stood at the edge of the field hospital camp, the makeshift tents and wooden crates around you blending into the mud-soaked earth. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows as the air grew cooler.

From where you were stationed, you could see the transport ship docking at the pier. Its hulking frame loomed against the gray sky, the gangplank lowering with a heavy groan. One by one, soldiers began to disembark, their boots clanging against the metal as they descended.

You were trained to observe, to analyze every detail without drawing attention to yourself. These men were exhausted, their faces grim and hardened by the horrors they had faced. Their uniforms were wrinkled and stained, helmets tilted at weary angles. They moved like a unit, but each step spoke of personal battles, of stories carried in silence.

You stayed rooted in place, your nurse’s uniform a perfect blend of authority and anonymity. A clipboard in your hand gave you an excuse to linger, but no one paid you much mind. This was war. You were just another face in the chaos.

Your eyes scanned the line of soldiers disembarking, cataloging them with practiced precision. You were supposed to be looking for weaknesses, details that might help you blend in more effectively. But then, your gaze landed on one man.

He walked with a quiet confidence, his posture upright despite the weight of fatigue. Dark hair peeked out from beneath his helmet, and his steel-blue eyes scanned the camp with a soldier’s wariness. His face was sharp, shadowed by stubble, but it was his expression that caught you equal parts focused and distant, as if he were both here and somewhere far away.

James Buchanan Barnes.

It felt weird knowing his name, his story or at least, the parts that history would remember… the parts in the folder. But standing here now, seeing him in the flesh, was something else entirely. He wasn’t just a name in a dossier or a ghost from the past. He was real, and the weight of that realisation hit you like a wave.

I’m like the water when your ship rolled in that night.

His arrival had stirred something deep within you, something you couldn’t explain.

You weren’t supposed to feel this way. Your mission was clear: stay invisible, complete the task, and leave. No deviations, no entanglements. But as you watched him, your chest tightened with an inexplicable pull. There was something about him, something magnetic.

Bucky paused near the base of the gangplank, helping another soldier with a crate of supplies. His voice was low, his words lost in the din of the camp, but the kindness in his gestures was unmistakable. He was a soldier, yes, but there was a warmth to him, a spark of humanity that hadn’t been extinguished by war.

You forced yourself to look away, focusing on the clipboard in your hand. Stay sharp. Stay focused. You couldn’t afford distractions, not here, not now.

Your eyes betrayed you, flickering back to him as he moved through the camp, his presence impossible to ignore. You told yourself it was just curiosity, a natural reaction to seeing someone you’d only read about.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to wonder what it would be like to speak to him, to share even a fraction of the weight you carried. But the thought was fleeting, quickly buried beneath the weight of your training.

You are a ghost. Leave no trace.

The smell of antiseptic and damp canvas filled the air as you moved between the rows of cots in the makeshift medical tent. Their arrival was what you’d been waiting for.

You were focused on checking supplies when a familiar commotion at the tent entrance caught your attention. A group of soldiers sauntered in, their uniforms caked in dirt and their faces shadowed with fatigue. Among them was a man who immediately stood out. His dark hair curled slightly at the ends, his blue eyes bright despite the grime smeared across his face. He carried himself with an easy confidence, even as he favoured one leg.

Your mission dossier hadn’t prepared you for the sheer presence of him.

As the soldiers dispersed to their assigned cots, he made a beeline for you. His limp was subtle but noticeable, and despite yourself, your training kicked in.

“Take a seat,” you said, your voice steady as you gestured to an empty cot. “I’ll take a look at that leg.”

Bucky flashed a crooked smile, his eyes sweeping over you with interest. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said, his voice smooth, tinged with the faintest Brooklyn accent. “And here I thought this camp was all bad news.”

You arched an eyebrow, setting down your clipboard. “Flattery won’t get you out of a medical exam, Sergeant Barnes.”

His grin widened as he sat down, wincing slightly. “So, you know my name. That’s a good start. What do I call you, Nurse…?”

You hesitated for half a second, then gave him your cover name. “Nurse Johnson.”

“Well, Nurse Johnson,” he said, leaning back on his hands, “if I’d known there were nurses like you out here, I’d have gotten shot a long time ago.”

You gave him a pointed look, crouching in front of him to roll up the tattered leg of his uniform. “Let’s try to avoid that, shall we?”

Bucky’s laugh was soft but genuine, his gaze never leaving your face. “You’re all business, huh?”

You pressed lightly on his shin, watching for a reaction. “Someone has to be. Looks like you’ve got a nasty sprain, but nothing’s broken.”

“Guess I’ll live to fight another day,” he said, wincing slightly as you adjusted his leg.

“Barely,” you muttered, grabbing a bandage from your kit. As you wrapped his leg, you could feel his eyes on you, the weight of his attention almost unnerving.

“So, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked, his tone playful but curious.

"Thats the line you're gonna go with?" The corners of your lips slightly turned as you tied off the bandage, sitting back on your heels. “Helping stubborn soldiers like you survive long enough to get home.”

Bucky chuckled, his head tilting slightly. “You got a smart mouth on you, Nurse Johnson. I like that.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up and crossing your arms. “And you’ve got a sprained leg. Try not to make it worse.”

He grinned again, leaning forward slightly. “You know, if you’re ever looking for a dance partner when this war’s over, I’d be happy to oblige.”

Despite yourself, you felt a small smile tug at your lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bucky’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “You better. A guy like me doesn’t make that offer twice.”

Shaking your head, you gathered your supplies and turned to leave. “Try to stay out of trouble, Sergeant.”

“No promises,” he called after you, his voice warm and teasing. “But I’ll do my best if it means seeing you again.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance back, finding him still watching you, his smile softer now. Your mission had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

The first few days at the field hospital were a blur of motion and noise. Soldiers came in with fresh wounds, some minor, others devastating. Your hands worked tirelessly, stitching cuts, setting broken bones, administering whatever pain relief was available. You moved through it all like a machine, your focus never wavering.

You’d trained for moments like this, where life and death were separated by a thread, but this mission wasn’t about saving lives it was about staying hidden long enough to complete your objective. The files you needed were still buried somewhere in enemy hands, and every moment you spent here was one step closer to obtaining them.

Still, blending in was vital, and that meant interacting with the men around you. They were polite, for the most part, offering nods of gratitude when you patched them up. But one soldier in particular seemed to be making it his mission to capture your attention.

“Hey, Nurse,” a familiar voice called out one evening as you worked on organizing supplies. You turned to see Bucky leaning against the frame of the medical tent, a lopsided grin on his face. “Got a minute?”

You raised an eyebrow, but kept your expression neutral. “That depends. Are you here because you need actual medical attention, or are you just bored?”

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “Bit of both, maybe.”

You sighed, setting down the bandages you were sorting. “Let me guess...another soldier got into a scuffle and you decided to play referee?”

Bucky stepped closer, his helmet tucked under his arm. “Something like that. You know how it is. Boys will be boys.” His eyes sparkled with mischief, and despite yourself, you felt a flicker of amusement.

You crossed your arms, feigning exasperation. “Well, if you’re not bleeding, you’re wasting my time, Sergeant.”

“Ah, but see, you didn’t check.” He tilted his head, his grin widening. “Maybe I’ve got a battle wound you missed.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the small smile threatening to break through. “If you’re trying to flirt, you’ll have to do better than that.”

“Flirt? Me?” Bucky placed a hand over his heart, mock-offended. “I’m just trying to keep morale up. Can’t have our best nurse getting all serious on us.”

“Best nurse?” You arched an eyebrow. “You’ve known me for all of three days, Barnes.”

“Three days is all I need,” he said smoothly, his voice dropping just enough to send a small shiver down your spine. “I’ve got a good eye for people.”

You turned back to your supplies, determined to maintain your composure. “Well, maybe you should use that good eye to look out for your men instead of distracting me.”

Bucky chuckled again, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “I do that too. Multitasking, you know?”

You shot him a pointed look, but before you could respond, another soldier poked his head into the tent, interrupting the moment. “Sarge, we’ve got a situation by the south perimeter.”

Bucky’s demeanour shifted instantly, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by sharp focus. He gave you a quick nod, then turned to follow the soldier out.

“Don’t work too hard, doll,” he called over his shoulder as he left. “Wouldn’t want you wearing yourself out.”

You shook your head, finally letting out a small laugh once he was gone. Bucky Barnes was trouble, that much was clear. He was charming, confident, and far too good at making you forget the rules you were supposed to live by.

But he was also a soldier, just like the rest of them and you were here for a mission, not for him.

Stay focused, you reminded yourself, though it was getting harder with every interaction.

The next few days followed a similar pattern. Bucky found every opportunity to stop by the medical tent, whether it was to check on his men or to toss a teasing remark your way. He seemed determined to pull you out of your shell, to coax a smile or a laugh from you no matter how busy or serious the day became.

One afternoon, as you were tending to a soldier with a shrapnel wound, Bucky appeared again, his presence filling the tent like sunlight cutting through a storm.

“Thought you might need some help,” he said, leaning casually against a supply crate.

You didn’t even look up. “Unless you’ve suddenly become a medic, I think I’m good.”

“Hey, I’m a fast learner,” he quipped, stepping closer. “Show me what to do, and I’ll be the best assistant you’ve ever had.”

You finally glanced up at him, your expression skeptical. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack.” He grinned, unflinching. “C’mon, Nurse. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You sighed, gesturing toward the supplies. “Fine. Hand me the gauze.”

Bucky’s grin widened as he moved to your side, and for the next few minutes, he actually did as he was told, passing you tools and supplies with surprising care. But of course, it didn’t take long for him to start talking again.

“So,” he began, his tone light, “you always this serious, or is it just an act?”

You didn’t miss a beat. “Maybe I’m trying to keep certain soldiers in line.”

“Ah, so I’m a bad influence,” he teased, leaning a little closer. “Good to know.”

You gave him a sidelong glance, trying not to let his proximity affect you. “You’re definitely something.”

The playful banter continued, but beneath it all, you felt the weight of unspoken truths. Every moment with Bucky was a reminder of what you couldn’t have, of the life you were just passing through. But for now, in the fleeting quiet of the field hospital, you allowed yourself to enjoy his presence.

Just for a little while, you told yourself.

The sun was setting, painting the horizon in hues of gold and crimson. The camp had grown quieter, the hum of daily activity fading as the soldiers took what little rest they could before nightfall. You were sitting on a wooden crate just outside the medical tent, enjoying a rare moment of stillness. A cup of lukewarm coffee sat in your hands, its warmth a small comfort against the cool evening air.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke the silence, and you didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“Mind if I join you?” Bucky’s voice was softer than usual, lacking its usual teasing edge.

You glanced at him, your heart giving a small, inexplicable flutter. “It’s a free camp,” you said, gesturing to the crate beside you.

Bucky sat down with a tired sigh, his helmet resting on his lap. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet settling comfortably between you. He looked different in the fading light less like the cocky sergeant who flirted with you during the day and more like the weary soldier you knew he was. His eyes were distant, reflecting the weight of battles fought and losses endured.

“You don’t talk much about yourself,” he said after a while, his voice thoughtful. “Most of the nurses here, they talk about home, family. You… you’re a mystery.”

You kept your gaze on the horizon, your grip tightening slightly on the cup. “Maybe I just don’t have much to tell.”

“Everyone’s got a story,” he countered, glancing at you. “Even ghosts.”

Your heart skipped at the word, but you kept your expression neutral. “Ghosts don’t have stories. They just… exist.”

Bucky frowned, leaning forward slightly. “Is that what you think you are? A ghost?”

You hesitated, caught off guard by his insight. He was perceptive, more than you’d expected. When you finally spoke, your voice was low. “I’ve spent a long time learning how to disappear. It’s easier that way.”

Bucky studied you for a moment, his gaze softening. “Easier, maybe. But doesn’t it get lonely?”

You swallowed hard. “Loneliness is part of the job.”

He shook his head, his expression gentle but firm. “Doesn’t have to be.”

You turned to look at him then, your eyes meeting his. There was no teasing now, no flirtation. Just quiet sincerity. It made your chest ache in a way you hadn’t expected.

“I don’t really have anyone to talk about,” you admitted after a moment. “No family, not that I remember. My parents… I don’t even know their names.”

Bucky’s expression shifted, his eyes filled with empathy. “Were you… a orphan?”

You hesitated, the term feeling both accurate and not. “Something like that. I was raised by people who didn’t care about who I was, only what I could do for them.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than you’d intended, but Bucky didn’t shy away from them. His gaze softened further, and he nodded slowly. “That’s a hell of a way to grow up,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

You shrugged, trying to deflect the weight of the conversation. “It made me good at what I do.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, his voice tinged with something that sounded like regret. “But it doesn’t mean you deserved it.”

You looked away, unsure how to respond. Empathy wasn’t something you were used to, especially not from someone like him, someone who seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve, even in the middle of a war.

After a long pause, Bucky spoke again, his voice softer this time. “You remind me of someone.”

You glanced at him, curious. “Who?”

“Steve,” he said with a small, fond smile. “He didn’t have much either. His mom passed not too long ago, and his dad when we were kids. But it's always been just him one way or another just fighting to survive in Brooklyn. Always getting picked on because he’s small, but he never gave up. He had this stubborn streak, always standing up for people, even when it got him into trouble.”

Steve Rogers. Captain America. You knew his story, but hearing Bucky talk about him like this, like he was just Steve, not a legend, because to this Bucky he wasn’t one yet it painted a different picture.

“Must’ve been tough,” you said softly.

Bucky nodded. “It was. But he never let it break him. That’s just who he is.” He paused, his smile growing a little. “He can't throw a rock without wheezing but he never let that and will never let that stop him.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, the warmth in Bucky’s voice cutting through the weight of the conversation.

“He’s lucky to have you,” you said.

Bucky looked at you, his smile fading into something more thoughtful. “I’m lucky to have him too. He’s always been there, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

The vulnerability in his words mirrored your own, and for a moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the weight of your shared pasts hanging between you.

Bucky reached out then, his hand brushing against yours. “You’re not as invisible as you think,” he said softly. “Not to me…I see you Nurse, and the view is amazing”

The camp was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that preceded something terrible. The usual hum of activity had slowed, and even the soldiers seemed more on edge. You felt it too, the tension in the air, the weight of something approaching.

You were in the medical tent, organising supplies when the call came.

“Enemy movement spotted near the south perimeter!” a soldier shouted as he rushed past. “They’re coming!”

Your heart dropped. You knew this moment was inevitable. The enemy had been closing in for days, and now they were here. But it wasn’t just the impending battle that had your stomach in knots. It was the mission, the files.

You quickly grabbed your hidden satchel from beneath your cot. Inside were the tools you’d need to breach the Nazi stronghold, which was now dangerously close to enemy lines. You’d been waiting for this opportunity, but it was coming at the worst possible time. The camp was about to become a battlefield, and every second counted.

Before you could slip away, Bucky stormed into the tent, his rifle slung over his shoulder, his face set in a grim expression.

“There you are,” he said, his eyes scanning you quickly, as if ensuring you were unharmed. “They’ve called all hands. It’s gonna get rough out there.”

“I know,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

He frowned, stepping closer. “You okay?”

You nodded, avoiding his gaze as you tightened the straps on your satchel. “I’ll be fine.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, his suspicion growing. “What’s in the bag?”

You froze for a split second, but it was enough for him to notice. "Nothing."

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, his voice low but firm. “What’s going on?”

You took a deep breath, meeting his gaze. “I can’t explain right now. I just… I have to go.”

His jaw tightened. “Go? Where? The perimeter’s crawling with enemy troops, and you’re talking about running off?”

You stepped past him, but he grabbed your arm, his grip firm but not harsh. “Talk to me,” he pleaded. “You’ve been keeping secrets since the day you got here. Please, dont do this….What’s really going on?”

You hesitated, the weight of your mission crashing down on you. Bucky wasn’t supposed to know. No one was. But in this moment, with his piercing gaze locked onto yours, you realized you couldn’t just walk away without saying something.

“I’m not who you think I am,” you said quietly. “I’m not just a nurse. I’m here on a mission.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed “A mission?” confusion and concern mixing in his expression. “What kind of mission?”

You glanced around, ensuring no one else was within earshot. “I can’t tell you everything. But there’s something I need to retrieve from the enemy. It’s vital.”

His grip on your arm tightened slightly. “You’re planning to go out there alone?”

“I have to,” you said, your voice firm. “This is what I was sent here to do.”

Bucky shook his head, his frustration evident. “You’re gonna get yourself killed. Do you even have backup?”

“No,” you admitted. “This mission is off the books.”

His eyes widened slightly, and he exhaled sharply. “That’s insane. You can’t go out there alone.”

“I’ve done it before,” you said, trying to reassure him. “I’ll be fine.”

But Bucky wasn’t convinced. “Not this time,” he said, his voice resolute. “I’m coming with you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the look in his blue eyes stopped you. He wasn’t going to let you go alone.

“Bucky—”

“No,” he interrupted. “You don’t get to push me away now. If this is as important as you say it is, then you’re gonna need someone watching your back.”

You hesitated, torn between the mission and the growing connection you felt with him. Bringing Bucky along wasn’t part of the plan, but the truth was, you knew he was right. The enemy would be everywhere, and the odds of surviving alone were slim.

“Fine,” you said finally. “But you follow my lead. No questions.”

He gave you a small, determined nod. “Deal.”

Together, you slipped out of the tent and into the night, the distant sound of gunfire growing louder with each step. The mission was about to reach its breaking point, and so was your fragile trust in Bucky.

But there was no turning back now.

The camp was already descending into chaos by the time you and Bucky slipped through the south perimeter. Gunfire echoed in the distance, mingling with the shouts of soldiers and the thunderous roar of artillery. The enemy was closing in fast, and every second felt like borrowed time.

You led the way, keeping low as you navigated the uneven terrain. Bucky followed close behind, his rifle at the ready, his eyes scanning for threats. The weight of your satchel bounced against your side, a constant reminder of the mission’s stakes.

“Where exactly are we going?” Bucky asked in a hushed voice as you reached a narrow trail leading toward the enemy-occupied forest.

“There’s a stronghold about a mile from here,” you replied, keeping your voice low. “That’s where they’re keeping the files.”

He gave you a skeptical look but didn’t press further. “And how do you know this?”

You hesitated. “Let’s just say I have access to intel most people don’t.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Fine., I trust you.”

The tension between you was palpable, but there was no time to unpack it. You pressed on, the shadows of the trees swallowing you both as you moved deeper into enemy territory.

The stronghold loomed ahead, a dark silhouette against the night sky. It was an old stone fortress, fortified with barbed wire and patrolled by armed guards. You and Bucky crouched behind a cluster of bushes, observing the layout.

“Two guards at the main entrance,” Bucky whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “And a patrol circling every few minutes.”

You nodded, scanning the area. “There’s a side entrance near the east wall. It’s less guarded, but we’ll have to time it perfectly.”

Bucky smirked slightly. “You’ve done this before.”

“More times than I care to admit,” you replied, keeping your eyes on the patrols. “Ready?”

“Always.”

Together, you moved swiftly and silently, sticking to the shadows. When the patrol passed, you darted toward the east wall, Bucky covering your six. The side entrance was a narrow metal door, rusted and worn. You pulled a small device from your satchel, a compact tool designed to pick even the most secure locks. Within seconds, the door clicked open.

“Impressive,” Bucky murmured as you slipped inside.

You gave him a quick look. “Focus.”

Inside, the stronghold was cold and dimly lit, the corridors eerily quiet. You navigated the labyrinthine hallways with precision, your memory of the layout guiding you. Bucky stayed close, his rifle raised and ready.

Finally, you reached a secured room at the end of a long hallway. A heavy steel door stood between you and your objective.

“This is it,” you whispered, pulling out another device from your satchel. It was a miniature explosive, designed to breach the door without causing a large-scale alert.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly. “You really came prepared.”

“Like I said,” you replied, placing the explosive, “I’ve done this before.”

The device beeped softly as you set the timer. “Stand back.”

The explosion was quick and precise, the door blasting inward with minimal noise. You and Bucky rushed inside, your eyes immediately scanning the room. It was filled with filing cabinets and stacks of documents, the enemy’s plans meticulously organized.

You went to work, quickly locating the files you needed. As you stuffed them into your satchel, Bucky kept watch by the door.

“So this is what all the secrecy was about?” he asked, his voice low but tense.

“These files could change everything,” you said, your hands moving quickly. “If they fall into the wrong hands, it could shift the balance of power for decades.”

Bucky nodded, his expression serious. “Then we make sure they don’t.”

Just as you secured the last of the files, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the hallway.

“Time to go,” Bucky said, his grip tightening on his rifle.

You nodded, and together you slipped out of the room, moving quickly and quietly through the stronghold. But as you reached the exit, the footsteps grew louder, closer. The guards were on high alert now.

“We’re not gonna make it out the way we came,” Bucky muttered, his eyes scanning for another escape route.

You pointed to a nearby staircase. “There’s a secondary exit through the upper level. It leads to the roof.”

Bucky nodded, and the two of you raced up the stairs, your boots barely making a sound on the worn stone steps. At the top, you found the door to the roof. It was locked, but Bucky didn’t hesitate. He slammed his shoulder into it, forcing it open with a grunt.

The night air hit you like a wall as you stepped onto the roof. Below, the camp was in chaos, enemy soldiers scrambling in response to the breach.

“There,” Bucky said, pointing to a nearby tree line. “We jump, head for cover.”

You hesitated, the drop from the roof to the ground far from ideal. But there was no time to argue. With a nod, you followed Bucky as he leapt, landing with a roll in the soft dirt below. You hit the ground a moment later, pain shooting through your legs as you landed hard but kept moving.

Together, you sprinted toward the trees, gunfire erupting behind you. Bullets whizzed past, but you didn’t stop, adrenaline driving you forward. Finally, you reached the cover of the forest, the sounds of pursuit growing fainter.

Once you were safely concealed among the trees, you collapsed against a trunk, your breath coming in heavy gasps. Bucky crouched beside you, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of pursuit.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You nodded, clutching the satchel tightly. “Mission accomplished.”

Bucky gave a small, breathless laugh. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You met his gaze, the tension of the moment fading slightly as his familiar smirk returned. “So are you, Sergeant.”

Despite the danger, despite everything, you felt a flicker of warmth between you. The mission had tested both your resolve and your connection, but you’d made it out together. And somehow, that made all the difference.

The firelight flickered across the camp, casting long shadows as the remnants of the battle settled into an uneasy calm. You and Bucky sat on the edge of the forest, just beyond the perimeter, hidden from sight. The distant sound of gunfire and shouting had finally faded, leaving only the quiet hum of the night.

The stolen files were secure in your satchel, now buried beneath layers of medical supplies. You’d succeeded in your mission, but the cost weighed heavily on your shoulders.

Bucky sat beside you, silent for a long time. His rifle was propped against a tree, his hands resting on his knees. The tension between you had shifted no longer marked by suspicion but by a shared understanding.

“You really weren’t kidding about being a ghost,” he said eventually, his voice low and thoughtful.

You glanced at him, the flickering firelight catching the sharp angles of his face. “I told you it was important.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah. But you didn’t tell me everything.”

You looked away, the weight of his words settling over you. “I couldn’t.”

“Why?” His voice was soft, but there was an edge of frustration. “Because you didn’t trust me?”

“It’s not about trust,” you said quietly, your fingers tightening around the satchel. “It’s about the mission. It’s about keeping things safe.”

Bucky frowned, his gaze searching your face. “Safe from what?”

You hesitated, carefully choosing your words. “From things that could change everything if they’re not handled right.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, the soldier in him catching on to the weight behind your statement. “Sounds like more than just some stolen files.”

“It is,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky was silent for a moment, processing your words. Finally, he spoke, his voice tinged with awe and concern. “And you’ve been doing this alone?”

“It’s what I was trained for,” you said, your tone matter-of-fact. “No attachments, no distractions. Just the mission.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “That’s no way to live.”

You looked at him, surprised by the intensity in his voice. “It’s the only way I know.”

He shook his head, his expression softening. “You’re more than just a mission, you know. You’ve got a life, a soul. You can’t keep shutting people out.”

Your chest tightened at his words. For so long, you’d lived in the shadows, carrying the burden of your missions alone. But now, sitting here with Bucky, you felt the cracks in your armor growing wider.

“I’m not supposed to get attached,” you said quietly. “It makes things complicated.”

Bucky gave a small, rueful smile. “Too late for that….”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You felt a surge of emotion, a mix of fear and longing. You’d spent years building walls, but Bucky was breaking through them with every shared glance, every quiet moment.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s hand stayed on yours, steady and grounding. His touch was gentle, but there was strength behind it, a quiet reassurance that you weren’t used to.

“I’m here, you know?” his voice soft but resolute. “I’m in this.”

You looked down at your joined hands, the firelight reflecting off his metal fingers. It felt like he was holding more than just your hand like he was holding the weight of everything you’d been carrying for so long.

“I’ve never had this before,” you said, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what it’s like to lean on someone, to let someone in.”

Bucky’s thumb traced small, soothing circles on the back of your hand. “It’s not easy,” he admitted. “But it’s worth it. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, the vulnerability of the moment making your chest ache. “What if I’m not good at it? What if I mess it up?”

Bucky leaned closer, his voice low and steady. “You won’t and even if you stumble, I’ll be right here.”

His words broke through the last of your defenses, and a tear slipped down your cheek. Bucky’s other hand came up, his thumb gently wiping it away. His touch was so tender, it made your heart ache even more.

“You’ve been through so much,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me.”

You let out a shaky breath, the weight of his words settling over you. “Bucky…”

He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours. “You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered. “Just let me be here for you.”

The two of you sat there in silence, the fire crackling softly in the background. The world outside the camp seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of his presence and the quiet comfort of the moment.

After a while, you finally spoke, your voice barely audible. “You’ve made me feel something I didn’t think I could feel.”

Bucky pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “What’s that?”

“Hope,” you said, the word feeling both fragile and powerful.

His lips curved into a soft, bittersweet smile. “Then we’ve got something to hold on to.”

Without thinking, you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. It was soft and tentative, a promise of something deeper. When you pulled back, his eyes were shining, and you could see the depth of his feelings mirrored in them.

“We’ll figure this out,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “One step at a time.”

You nodded, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through. “Okay.”

Bucky squeezed your hand, his warmth chasing away the chill of the night. “Okay,” he echoed.

In the days following the mission, the dynamic between you and Bucky began to change. There was a newfound understanding between you, a quiet bond forged in the heat of battle and the weight of shared secrets.

Bucky became more protective, often finding excuses to check in on you, whether it was during your rounds at the medical tent or when you were working alone. His teasing remarks were still there, but they were softer now, laced with genuine care.

You found yourself leaning on him more, allowing him into the parts of your life you’d always kept hidden and despite the danger, despite the mission’s stakes, you had the files you could go back now and have exiled beating your initial time, but you stayed you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, you’d found something worth holding onto.

But in the back of your mind, you knew the clock was ticking. The mission was complete, and soon, you’d have to leave this time, this time and Bucky behind.

The glow of the fire illuminated the night, the crackle the only sound cutting through. Most of the camp had settled in for the evening, but you and Bucky remained near the fire, sitting side by side on a fallen log. The warm glow danced across his face, softening the sharp angles and making his eyes shimmer like the stars above.

Bucky leaned back slightly, resting his arm along the log behind you. “So, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked with a playful smirk, his voice low and smooth.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Really? That’s the line you’re going with….again?”

He grinned, his teeth catching the firelight. “What can I say? I’m trying to impress the mysterious nurse who keeps patching me up .”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to get on my good side.”

“Is it working?” he asked, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

You glanced at him, your heart skipping a beat. “Maybe.”

Bucky’s grin softened into something more sincere. His gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, the weight of the war, the mission, everything else faded away. It was just the two of you, suspended in this fleeting moment of peace.

He reached up, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he murmured.

You felt your breath catch, your pulse quickening. “Bucky…”

“I mean it,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours. “You’re strong, smart, brave… and you’ve got this way of making me forget everything else, even when the world’s falling apart.”

His words broke through the walls you’d spent years building. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in, and he met you halfway. His lips were warm and soft against yours, the kiss tender but filled with a quiet intensity. Time seemed to stop as the world melted away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady beat of his heart.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes were wet with tears. Bucky frowned, his thumb gently brushing your cheek.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice filled with concern. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, struggling to find the words. “I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

Bucky’s expression softened, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on your cheeks. “Then let me show you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his own tears on his waterline threatening to spill. “Stay. Please stay, for me.”

Your heart shattered at his plea. The sincerity in his eyes, the quiet desperation in his voice it was almost too much to bear. But you couldn’t. Not when you knew the mission, the weight of your responsibilities, and the secrets you carried. You’d always been a ghost, moving through life without leaving traces behind. How could you let yourself stay, knowing the danger you brought with you?

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed, his hands dropping slightly. “Why not? What’s stopping you?”

You looked away, tears streaming down your face. “Because… I don’t get to have this,” you said quietly. “People like me… we don’t get happy endings.”

Bucky stared at you, his jaw tightening. “That’s bullshit,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “You deserve this just as much as anyone else.”

You shook your head, your hands trembling. “You don’t understand if I stay, things could fall apart. I’m not meant to… to put down roots. To belong.”

Bucky reached for your hand, holding it tightly. “If that’s what you’ve been told, they’re wrong, let me help, I want to help."

You squeezed his hand, your tears falling freely now. “I wish you could. But this isn’t goodbye, Bucky. Not really.”

His grip tightened, his eyes filled with pain. “How do you know?”

You gave him a shaky smile, your heart aching. “Because feeling this… it’s the kind of thing that changes everything. No matter where life takes us, I’ll find you again. I promise.”

Bucky pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he could keep you from slipping away. His breath was warm against your hair, and for a moment, you let yourself believe in the impossible. In a different world, maybe you could stay. Maybe you could let yourself love him the way you wanted to.

But for now, you clung to him, memorising the feel of his embrace, the sound of his heartbeat. This wasn’t the end. You wouldn’t let it be.

The fire burned low, its warmth fading, but neither of you moved. Instead, you lay back together on a blanket you’d pulled from the medical tent. The stars stretched endlessly above, their light soft and comforting.

Bucky shifted, his arm wrapping protectively around you as you rested your head against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, grounding you in the moment. He let out a soft sigh, his voice breaking the silence.

“When I was a kid, Steve and I used to sneak up onto the roof of our building,” he said quietly. “We’d lie there, looking at the stars, talking about all the things we were gonna do someday.”

You smiled faintly, imagining a pre-serum Steve beside him, small but full of fight. “What did you talk about?”

Bucky chuckled, the sound low and fond. “Steve always had big dreams. He wanted to do something that mattered. Join the army, help people, change the world.” He paused, his voice softening. “Didn’t care that he was too small, too sick. He just wanted to be better, to do better.”

You closed your eyes, the image of Steve Rogers, Captain America so different now. But to Bucky, he was still that skinny kid with more heart than anyone.

“And what about you?” you asked gently.

Bucky hesitated, his hand absently tracing small circles on your shoulder. “Me? I just wanted to keep him safe. Steve’s always been the brave one. I just… I wanted to make sure he didn’t get himself killed chasing those dreams.”

His words were filled with so much quiet love, it made your heart ache. You lifted your head slightly, meeting his gaze. “You’re braver than you give yourself credit for.”

Bucky smiled, his hand brushing over your hair. “Maybe. But I think you’re the brave one here.”

You rested your head against his chest again, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. “We both are.”

The silence stretched once more, comfortable and grounding. The crackle of the fire and the distant sounds of the camp blended with the soft rustle of the trees.

Bucky’s voice broke the stillness. “Did you have someone like that?” he asked, his tone thoughtful. "A sibling? A friend?"

You paused, your mind drifting back. “I didn’t have siblings,” you said slowly. “But I had a friend. Her name’s Natasha.” You smiled softly at the memory, though a hint of sadness crept into your voice. “She was like a sister to me. Strong, stubborn, always looking out for me.”

Bucky’s eyes softened. “She sounds like someone you could count on.”

“She was,” you said, your voice tinged with regret. “We went through a lot together, but… I haven’t seen her in years.”

He squeezed your shoulder gently. “Think you’ll see her again?”

You stared up at the stars, your heart heavy with longing. “I hope so. But with the way things are… who knows?”

Bucky nodded, his thumb brushing over your arm in a soothing motion. “If she’s anything like you, she’s still out there, fighting her own battles. And when the time’s right, you’ll find your way back to each other.”

You swallowed hard, his words offering a comfort you didn’t realize you needed. “I hope you’re right.”

The two of you fell into silence again, but it wasn’t empty. The weight of your shared stories, your losses and hopes, filled the space between you.

As the night deepened, you knew this moment wouldn’t last forever. But for now, you let yourself have it, holding onto Bucky like he was your anchor in a storm you couldn’t escape. Beneath the stars, in the quiet of the night, the war and the mission felt distant, like a different world entirely.

You stood near the edge of the camp, the glow of the setting sun casting long shadows across the field. The soldiers of the 107th were regrouping, preparing to move out. You spotted Bucky in the distance, his silhouette unmistakable as he spoke with his men. His voice was calm, commanding, but you could see the tension in his posture. He was ready for the next fight, even if his heart wasn’t and so were you.

You adjusted the strap of your satchel, your fingers brushing over the hidden compartment containing the files. This would be your last night here. By dawn, you’d be gone, pulled back to the time you belonged. Everything you’d built here every connection, every moment would be left behind.

Bucky made his way toward you, each step heavy with the knowledge of what was about to happen. When he stopped in front of you, the space between you felt impossibly small yet vast, like an ocean you were both struggling to cross.

“You’re leaving,” he said, his voice low, not a question but a statement, tinged with quiet resignation.

You nodded, your throat tight. “I have to.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with emotions he wasn’t voicing. He looked down for a moment, then slowly reached up, pulling something from around his neck. His dog tags caught the fading light as they dangled from his fingers, the metal clinking softly.

He held them out to you, his hand steady even as his voice wavered. “Take these.”

You stared at the tags, your heart twisting. “Bucky, I can’t—”

“Please,” he interrupted, his gaze locking onto yours. “I want you to have them, please”

You hesitated, the weight of the moment settling over you. These weren’t just tags. They were a piece of him, a symbol of his identity, of the man he was here and now. Taking them felt like crossing a line you weren’t sure you could bear.

But when you looked into his eyes, the quiet plea there shattered any resistance you had. Slowly, you reached out and took the tags, the cool metal pressing into your palm. Your fingers curled around them tightly, as if holding onto them would somehow keep him closer.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Bucky gave a small, sad smile, his hand brushing against yours briefly before he let it fall. “Just… promise me you won’t forget.”

Your chest tightened, tears welling in your eyes. “I couldn’t if I tried.”

The silence stretched between you, filled with everything you couldn’t say. You wanted to tell him how much he meant to you, how this short time together had changed something inside you. But the words stuck in your throat, buried under the weight of your mission and the future you knew awaited him.

Bucky reached up, gently cupping your face with one hand, his thumb brushing away a tear that slipped down your cheek. “You’ve been trained to disappear,” he said softly, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “But not from me.”

You choked back a sob, your hands gripping the dog tags like a lifeline. “I’ve never had to do this before,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I don’t know how to say goodbye.”

His hand slipped down, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Then don’t,” he whispered, begging one last time. “Stay. Please. Stay for me.”

Your heart broke at his words, the sincerity in his voice cutting through every defense you had left. But you knew you couldn’t. Staying here would risk everything the mission, the future, his life.

“I can’t,” you said, your voice cracking. “I wish I could, but you know I can’t.”

Bucky’s grip tightened on your hand, his eyes searching yours for something, anything to hold onto. “Why?” he asked, his voice raw. “Why does it have to be like this?”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Because this isn’t my time, this isn’t our time” you said quietly.

Bucky’s eyes glistened, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue, to beg you to stay again. But instead, he nodded slowly, his hand lingering on yours for a heartbeat longer.

“Then I’ll wait,” he said, his voice filled with quiet determination. “No matter how long it takes.”

Tears streamed down your face as you gave him a shaky smile. “You won’t have to wait forever.”

With one last, lingering glance, Bucky leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. The warmth of his lips, the steady presence of his touch, imprinted itself in your memory, a moment you knew you’d carry with you for the rest of your life.

When he pulled back, he let his hand fall, his eyes never leaving yours. “Take care of yourself Nurse,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

“You too, Sergeant," you whispered, clutching the dog tags close to your heart.

With every ounce of strength you had left, you turned and walked away. You didn’t look back, knowing that if you did, you might never be able to leave. But with every step, the weight of his dog tags in your hand was a promise a tether that would guide you back to him.

I could feel you sneaking in, As if you were a mythical thing

[raveninfog]

Secrecy.

Authors note- hi everyone! I’m pretty new to all this and this is my first shot at writing. I’ve always been a spectator, just waiting on amazing authors to update their fics to reading one shots in the middle of the night cause I can’t sleep. I’ve always had ideas in my head about how I’d write and I decided to finally give it a try. Hopefully you’d all enjoy it. Also with that being said, please don’t be afraid to give me some advice on how I can get better as time goes on. 🫶🏼

Enjoy my loves!

Warnings- flirting, light swearing, nicknames, based in the late 40s. Kissing. Sneaking around, Best friend’s older brother. Sergeant James Barnes. Reader is 20 while Bucky is 24.

Genre- Oneshot! Fluff! Best Friends Brother.

You were sitting there at the dining table with your best friend Rebecca. Working on a school project you had to finish with her for your history class. Books laid out in front of you, papers, pencils. The sound of the front door opening was heard since the dining room was right by the front door of the small home. It was him, Rebecca’s older brother bucky. He was home from the base quite early today.

You’ve had a crush on him for a while, how couldn’t you? He was a sergeant, in the military, about to go fight in the war in a couple months. That crush reciprocated from Bucky, it had seemed like he felt the same way about you too. Which later came out to be very true. So you two had a little secret, a little secret relationship..no one knew about.

Not even Rebecca.

As you saw Rebecca get up and go to the kitchen to grab some snacks, Bucky came up behind you. He knew this was the perfect time too. The kitchen wall blocked off the area of the living room you were in. Your head turning to the side to where he was as you heard him, before he leaned in and kissed your lips passionately. His lips met in a fiery clash, soft yet insistent, moving with a rhythm that spoke of longing and urgency with yours. The warmth of his touch was intoxicating, every brush sending shivers down your spine. It was the way your lips fit perfectly within his, moving in sync, that made everything else fade into the background—a perfect balance of softness and intensity, leaving you two breathless and wanting more.

His lips were pliant and eager, parting slightly to deepen the connection, to draw the you closer. There was a slight pressure, firm and deliberate, as if to imprint the moment into a memory. The sensation was both tender and consuming, each movement speaking of unspoken words, of desire that couldn't be contained.

You were caught off guard of course, especially when you had turned your head and there was your boyfriend. You felt his lips on yours, before closing your eyes and kissing him back. The way he had bent down and had his hand on the back of your head, tilted upwards to get a good angle of your perfect lips on his . The warmth of your own breath and his mingled, and the world around you two faded away, leaving only the steady rhythm of your hearts and lips together.

“Is this how you say hello?...” you whispered to him in between kisses, when you pulled away just slightly for him to capture your lips again in a split second for a moment.

You could feel him pull away, to see if Rebecca was still in the kitchen. Hell, he could hear Rebecca going through the cabinets to find snacks or something.

To his luck, she was still in the kitchen. You had felt his lips right back on yours once again without even saying a single thing to you until he had finally pulled away to speak. He rested his forehead against yours, his thumb moving onto your cheek bone and caressing it gently before his thumb slid down to your bottom lip doing the same.

His lips curled into a soft smirk, his perfect little doll he absolutely adored with all his god damn being. It was almost surprisingly how Rebecca didn’t notice her big brother look at her own best friend with love in his eyes for you.

“What else do you want? A little love tap?” He teased you as he ran his thumb against your chin now.

You finally felt him pull his hands away from you, standing up straight as he fixed his uniform and took a shuffle back just in time as Rebecca had made her way back with some tea she had made. God, Rebecca was so oblivious to the point where it felt too easy. Too easy to the point it felt god damn suspicious.

“Let’s get this project over with so we can go to bed, unless you want Bucky to drive you home Y/N.” Becca said, setting the mug of tea in front you before taking a seat in the chair. Her face having a clear look of annoyance at the papers in front of her.

Bucky turned his head, looking at his little sister because he took a glance at you and cleared his throat a little.

“Why not tell dad to drop her off?” He spoke up. It felt like torture to say that, but he knew he had to play the game of keeping the relationship a secret.

Rebecca rolled her eyes and looked at her older brother before snickering at him.

“Well hello to you too, Why wouldn’t you wanna drop your girlfriend off?”

“WHAT?!” You and Bucky say in sync, shock spreading on his face while your cheeks turned completely red.

“What do you mean wha- oh come on, did you guys REALLY think I was that stupid..you guys aren’t exactly the best at hiding things. Especially since you two are always making out somewhere in the damn house.”

Buckys cheeks turned red as he rubbed the back of his neck, he honestly didn’t know what the hell to say to his little sisters revelation about her knowing everything. Clearly you were embarrassed, not to mention shocked about your best friend knowing. God you knew you and Bucky weren’t ever gonna hear the end of this. Not in a bad way really, more in an annoying way where she’d bring it up at every occasion she sees.

“Uh well…I-If that’s the case then yeah..I’ll drop Y/N off…unless she’s sleeping over.” Bucky said, before clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Ugh pervert..” Becca muttered in disgusted.

[scarfacemarston]

Bucky Barnes A-Z Fluff Alphabet!

Feel free to send in more requests for Bucky! Please think about "liking" and reblogging! These things take time. Also, I included a lot of 1940s Bucky as a comparison.

A - Affection (how do they show affection to their s/o)

Bucky has always been physically affectionate, but this changed after escaping his time in Hydra captivity. He's slowly beginning to experience positive touches again and quickly discovered how touch-starved he is, so physical touch is a significant way he shows affection, but there are days when he'll request not to be touched. He tries to be encouraging and complimentary, but he feels like it comes across as awkward and stilted. He'll try for quality time, but he does worry if he's overstaying his welcome. However, he does become less anxious as time goes on.

B - Best Friend (what are they like as a best friend?)

Look at Steve, for example! He's loyal to a fault. He will put his friend's well-being way beyond his own. He considers himself less of a decent friend than before, but he's wrong. He's just as great a friend as he used to be.  He's just as loyal and self-sacrificing. He will drop everything the moment you need help. The only reason he is ever distant is because he doesn't believe he's worthy of friendship, and his anxiety and depression get in the way. He will always doubt himself, but again, it improves in time.

C - Cuddling (do they like to cuddle? And how would they do it?)

Yes, physical touch with those he trusts is a soothing balm for him. He's always loved it when someone played with his hair, or he could hold hands, place an arm around his partner's waist - he loves it all, so loving to cuddle is really no surprise. He occasionally doesn't want to be touched, and that space is important to him, but otherwise, he'd be happy to be cuddled basically any time. It doesn't matter what position - he loves them all, but his favorite is lying on his back with your head on his chest.

D - Domestic (do they want to settle down? How good are they at cooking and cleaning)

In the 40s, he was expected to settle down at some point and probably would have in some form after the war. He still feels as though he has these expectations today, but it's more of a ghost memory than anything else. He'd be surprised that someone wants that with him - unless it's Steve. If it's Steve, he's not surprised at all and would consider it a continuation of their lives in Brooklyn. With a new partner, he can be convinced to settle down; he just wants to be sure that it's what you want. He knows how to clean and can cook simple meals, as we see in Romania. In the 30s and 40s, it was very much bachelor food like canned soup and a relatively clean, if not bare, apartment. Bucky can be a combination of messy and neat. It depends on his mental health. However, his residence is so devoid of decor that it's hard to make it messy. (This is seen with the comics as well.) He does improve when you move in with him. He enjoys cooking now in comparison to the 40s.

E - Ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He's very quiet but very gentle and kind about it. He doesn't expect you to understand why, and he is hard on himself for breaking it off. He is more likely to break it off because of his own self-doubt, but he does have boundaries that, if broken - he will break it off. He expects you to hate him afterward and understands if you do, but his mind will not change.

F - Fiancé (how do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

In the 40s, Bucky loved dating around - he wasn't a himbo, but he did enjoy pursuing different people. He didn't want to settle down yet - unless it was with Steve, which was something he didn't want to think about logistically. However, he doesn't take commitment for granted nowadays and realizes how valuable it can be. He's not sure about marriage as it's nothing he ever really thought about outside of his mother reminding him he "should" get married, but if it feels right and it's discussed, he might be convinced. 

G - Gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Bucky is very methodological physically and emotionally speaking. He is very tender and careful, but steady physically speaking.He is especially careful with his prosthetic. Emotionally, he is stronger than one would expect. He isn't a pushover, and will defend himself or anyone else who needs defending, but he is gentler now than before he was the Winter Soldier.

H: Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) 

Once there's trust between you, yes. He loves hugs. He loved them in the 40s, and he loves them now. He definitely loves to be greeted with a hug and likes to give you a hug before he leaves somewhere, like a mission or therapy. They're very firm but gentle.

I: I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It would take Bucky a while before he said he loved you. The problem is, he either plans how he'll say it—his preference—or accidentally blurts it out in an especially tender moment and then dies of embarrassment. I would say it takes about half a year, but it really depends on your bond. 

J: Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?)

The 1940s Bucky could get quite jealous. It wasn't a toxic masculinity thing, but it was definitely something he sometimes struggled with. He was never abusive about it, EVER, but it was something that bothered him, as seen with The First Avenger. Nowadays, he's less likely to be jealous because his confidence levels are a bit lower than before, but the more robust your bond, the more likely he is to get jealous because the two of you put so much work into it. He is definitely the type to give the death glare to end all death glares, make a snide comment, or generally find a way to stay by your side. 

K: Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you?)

It really depends on his mood, as it does with anyone. Sometimes, he can give playful kisses, peppering them all over your face as he refuses to let go, or they can be slow and tender, full of meaning and gratefulness, or they can be scorching, searing, and passionate.

L: Little Ones (How are they with kids?)

Bucky has always been good with kids, even in the 40s, and that's thanks in part to having three little sisters. We also see the children in Wakanda love him. He's very relaxed and more himself around children. In the 40s, his mother used to harass him about when he'd give her grandkids. 

M: Mornings (How are mornings spent with them?)

In the 40s, it was getting up at the crack of dawn to work at the docks for 9-12 hour shifts, with him sleeping in late on the weekends. Now, he still sleeps late because he feels like he doesn't have anything else to do. However, given a routine and responsibilities like helping the Avengers or going on missions, he is more likely to keep a decent schedule. It's also his insomnia that causes him to sleep in more, but not as late as he used to. Now, he'll spend the mornings trying to coax you to stay in bed with him, whether that's through cuddles or fun. ; )

N: Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Again, insomnia is his worst enemy. He tends to take late-night walks or read late into the night before staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep. Now, he does those things, but he can also enjoy sex with you, cuddling, or watching something stupid on TV. 

O: Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Bucky was semi-open about himself in the 40s, but he was actually more likely to ask about you than about him. Sure, he'd talk about his family, Steve, or his work, but that was about it. However, that was partially the toxic belief that men just don't reveal everything about themselves. Now, it's more about feeling safe to do so and what is "too much." What will chase you away? When will it happen? However, as usual, with trust, this changes, and while there is much he will never reveal, he slowly opens up. 

P: Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He could be a bit fiery in the 40s, but nothing compared to Steve. He was a saint in comparison to Steve. His anger is more biting and calling someone out, maybe raising his voice in the 40s. Now, it's more stormy and quiet. It can be biting, though, and there are still elements of him from the 40s with snide comments - but he hates to fight and would prefer to do anything to prevent it, or if there has to be a fight - find a resolution as soon as possible.

Q: Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every detail in passing, or do they kind of forget? )

In the 40s, he tried to remember as much as he could and actually impressed people with how thoughtful he could be. He remembered everything about Steve, his sisters, and the commandos, but also things about his enemies. Nowadays, he struggles with his memory, but he sometimes writes important things in his journal so he can remember them. However, the will is there, and he tries very hard.

R: Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time you watched a movie together and you put your head on his shoulder. It was the first time someone had done that to him since before he fell off the train. That moment turned into full on cuddling during the movie and he was so anxious - but giddy, that he couldn't focus on the movie.

S: Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) 

1940s Bucky was very protective in about every way imaginable, but especially in the stereotypical 1940s ways. However, Bucky now isn't entirely too different from that. The main difference is that he is a little more modern in how he views women and that he is a bit more physically protective. Unsurprisingly, he is very concerned someone from his past might harm you. He's the type that wants you to text him when you get home safely and has similar habits. Emotionally, he has no problem standing up for you. It's something he's always been good at.

T: Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, and gifts?)

He's always been thoughtful about dates, anniversaries, and gifts from childhood to now. He never had much money, so every penny had to count. If he couldn't buy something, he would plan extensively for just the right type of event to attend. With dates, he was a bit more traditional and knew what worked, like dinner and a movie or the carnival, but that doesn't mean he didn't put thought into it. Bucky is the same now, except perhaps even more thoughtful about it. He was always observant, but now he listens more than he talks, whereas before, it was the opposite. He may have more money now, but he prefers to put a lot of thought into what he gets you or something that can help you. Nowadays, he overthinks what he should do for a date or anniversary, but it's always wonderful even when things don't go as planned.

U: Ugly (What would be a bad habit of theirs?)

His self depreciation is pretty bad. His low self confidence also tends to get in the way of things - but it is of no fault of his own! As for an actual habit, he grinds his teeth and clenches his jaw too often giving him jaw pain. 

V: Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Bucky could be quite vain in the 40s and spent quite a bit of time on his hair. He didn't have a choice about his appearance as the Winter Soldier and afterwards, he was too focused on survival and blending in to really care about his appearance. He is trying to get more into self care habits and rituals and you encourage him to spend time on himself, but he doesn't care like he once did. 

W: Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Bucky was surrounded by people in the 40s so he would notice it less if his partner was gone, but he would still feel it! I just think he would bounce back quicker depending on how the relationship was while with Bucky now; he always tries to prepare for the worst and prepare himself for if you do leave him. He would survive, but he would feel like a light was extinguished.

X: Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

Bucky really misses the Indiana house he had to sell. He really wanted to stay there, build a community, and potentially raise a family there, but it wasn't meant to be. (This is more comic verse-esque)

Z: Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Bucky used to be a stomach sleeper, but that quit when he joined the army. It was too uncomfortable to sleep on his stomach then. It's not as easy with his prosthetic, but he still sleeps on his stomach sometimes. (This is canon for Comic Bucky.) 

[xmiaacxio]

anyone remember this?

(from seb’s active instagram days)

[elixirfromthestars]

Dancing Embers

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x Nurse!Reader

Summary: A cozy cabin, the love of your life, and the warmth of a fire. What more could you ask for on a cold winter night?

Word Count: 1.3k

Warning(s): none. pure fluff. slight insinuation at the end. female reader.

Prompt/Event: @the-slumberparty december daze -> a crackling fire sets the mood

a/n: This piece is written as a standalone. However, I will link below the pairing this fic is based on in case you want to read more of them. For context, this timeline is one where Bucky made it back from the war safe and sound and is enjoying his life now that the war is over. Thank you for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

how their love story began ♡ || fluffy winter drabbles masterlist ❆

The hum of the radio travels through the air and finds its way into the kitchen where you’re placing tonight’s dinner in the oven. A puff of hot air caresses your face as you close the oven door, the casserole dish cocooned inside by a blazing heat. You pick up the small timer from the counter and twist the dial, setting it for thirty minutes. 

Now, you have to find something to do to pass the time…

You look around the unfamiliar kitchen, its rustic woodsy furnishing a cozy contrast to the one in your apartment in the city. A smile makes its way to your face as you recall how Bucky surprised you with this weekend getaway. It was after you came home from a shift at the children’s clinic—exhaustion heavy in your bones. An exhaustion he eased with a homecooked meal and a plethora of loving kisses. All leading up to the surprise of a weekend trip just for the two of you, presented to you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a handwritten note.

You started packing right away after that. 

While still ruminating on the joy of the memory, you begin to tidy up the mess in the kitchen—the one left from your dinner preparations. There wasn’t much to clean up—bits of leftover ingredients here and a few prep dishes there—but at least it gives you something to do while the timer counts down in the background. 

Out of the blue, a frosty air embraces you from behind. You let out a small squeal as the arms that usually radiate warmth are bitterly cold against your skin. A sharp intake of breath escaping you at the contact.

“Bucky, you’re freezing!” you say with concern and caught off guard by the piercing chill of his hands. How long had he been out in the cold? 

“Not anymore,” he mutters a response as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his icy lips pressing kisses into your skin. A shiver goes down your spine as the frost on his lips melts away into a heat that you’re used to. 

You twist in his arms to face him, pulling him even closer by his wool jacket to kiss the tip of his reddened nose, hoping to bring warmth back to it. Bucky grins at you with a gentle adoration, even more so when you brush off the remnants of winter from his hair and shoulders. His eyes take in your every feature like he wants to commit this moment to memory. 

When it comes to you, he always does. There’s never been a moment with you he doesn’t hold dear in his heart. His time at war taught him to treasure every second he gets with those he loves most. And of course, as the love of his life, that includes you. 

“I’m going to need more than that to warm up, doll,” he claims playfully, before connecting his lips to yours, pulling you flush against him by your waist. Your arms eagerly wrap around his shoulders, melting into him faster than the snow on his body does. The kiss is sweet, yet profound as if the hour spent apart had been entirely too long for the both of you. 

When the kiss has restricted enough air from your lungs, you both pull away only slightly and out of breath, smiling from ear to ear. You collect yourself enough to say, “Dinner should be ready soon.” Bucky, however, has his attention elsewhere as he plants a soft kiss to your forehead, your nose, and then your lips once more. 

“Sounds. Good. Doll,” he mumbles the words between kisses that leave you in a fit of giggles. A sound that almost drowns out the grumbling of his stomach. 

“Someone’s hungry.”

“Mm, chopping lumber will do that to you.”

“Chopping lumber?”

“For the fireplace. I should probably go and get it started.”

Bucky lets out an exaggerated sigh, not entirely keen on going back out into the cold night. He presses a tender kiss to the top of your head before reluctantly detaching his arms from your waist as he heads back outside. He spends the next few minutes hauling in pieces of wood into the living room where he tends to the fireplace. Meanwhile, you get the dining table ready for your dinner for two. 

As you are on the brink of finishing setting up, you notice the radio gets louder—a slow song replacing the previous hum. It’s not long before Bucky comes back into the kitchen, however, this time he’s swaying slowly to the rhythm of the music. There’s a glimmer in his eyes as his hands outstretch to beckon you to him. 

“Dance with me,” he says, taking hold of your hands and placing them on his shoulders. You laugh softly, looking at him with fond mirth. “Maybe later, sweetheart. Dinner’s almost ready,” you mention, glancing at the mechanical timer that would go off in a few minutes.

Bucky shakes his head, watching as your hands slide down from his shoulders, but before they can go anywhere, he swiftly intertwines them with his own. He uses this small leverage to begin coaxing you out of the kitchen and into the living room with gentle tugs. “Dinner can wait, doll. I want to dance with my best girl first,” he replies, his expression full of pleading affection. 

You can never say no when he looks at you like that. 

You throw the image of the timer to the back of your head and follow Bucky into the center of the living room. To your right, the fireplace crackles beautifully with bright embers, cascading the room in an amber glow. To your left, the coffee table, handcrafted in oak, is pushed up against the sofa, giving you enough space by the fireplace to dance. 

Bucky’s hands find purchase at your waist as he anchors you closer. Your hands settle against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. Soon your hips and his gradually sway in sync, letting the melody of the song guide you. 

You hold each other close for what seems like a lifetime, the heat of the fire amplifying the warmth that radiates between you. Its flames flicker alongside you as if slow dancing themselves. The serenity of the moment forever engraves itself into your heart. 

“I love you, Y/n. I can’t wait for the rest of our lives to start,” Bucky’s voice is full of devotion, bringing your left hand up to his lips to kiss the spot right where your engagement ring is. You look at him as if he hung the moon for you, “I love you too, Bucky. Forever can’t come soon enough.” Your hands snake up to wrap behind his neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss, the kind that consumes as quickly as a spark catches fire. However, before the intensity can reach a boiling point, a loud ringing suddenly breaks it. The timer in the kitchen signaling whatever desires were igniting would have to be put on pause until after dinner. 

“Dinners ready,” neither of you are ready to break apart when you whisper this. A beat passes and Bucky lifts your chin gently with his finger, so your gaze locks with his adoring one.

“One more kiss.”

“The casserole is going to burn.” 

“Just one more?”

There he goes again with that pleading expression you can’t resist. 

“You know it won’t be just one more, James Buchanan Barnes,” you point out and he lets out a hearty chuckle. 

“You know me so well Mrs.Barnes-to-be.” 

He kisses you again anyway—short and sweet—leaving you with a promise for more to hold onto. Your laughter mixes with his as you lead him back to the kitchen. He hugs you from behind one last time as he whispers an enticing promise into your ear. 

“After dinner, I’m having you for dessert.” 

[bwallure]

THE MALTESE FALCON (1941) dir. John Huston

[pome-seed]

Me when I realize that after Bucky fell and he had that small moment of consciousness where he saw his severed arm and blood as he was being dragged through the snow, HE PROBABLY THOUGHT SOMEONE WAS SAVING HIM

He had NO IDEA WHAT WAS HAPPENING- HE PROBABLY THOUGHT STEVE HAD FOUND HIM AND WAS TAKING HIM TO SAFETY

OH MY GODDDD I CANT HAVE PEACE

[deniable-masterpiece]

there is some untapped kinky potential about the “share a coke” campaign that coke does but i don’t know what could be done about it